


Endless Forms Most Beautiful

by caravaggio_bosch



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (if that was an identity at that time and to call them that would be anachronistic), (out of necessity I promise), Anal Sex, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Canon Time Period, Cunnilingus, Eventual Smut, First Time, Gender Issues, Giving Birth, Loss of Virginity, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Now Complete!, OFC - Freeform, Past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pregnancy, Trans Character, Vaginal Sex, cliche mirror scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caravaggio_bosch/pseuds/caravaggio_bosch
Summary: (or, a Guide to Protandry for the Mid-Ninth Century Teenage Warlock)Merlin proposes an entirely unexpected solution to the marriage problem, revealing more about himself and challenging Arthur's assumptions about their relationship. With the threats, betrayals, and dangers soundly behind them, will Arthur and Merlin be able to forge a new path forward?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 187





	1. A Modest Proposal

“Alright well, what do you suppose we do?” Merlin asked, staring across at Arthur with wide eyes. Impossibly wide, shining.

Arthur was standing, leaning heavily on the back of his leather writing chair, clutching so hard at the toprail that his knuckles were starting to white.

He was facing a combination of three conundrum, if that was the proper grammatical term for a group of issues clusterfucking into one, impossibly larger problem. 1. He needed to take another wife who could bear children. 2. He didn’t want to hurt Merlin. 3. For all he didn’t understand his own desires, he felt that he himself didn’t want to take a wife simply to bear children.

He couldn’t, well, he couldn’t put his finger on why. He had loved women, and he had loved Guinevere, and before the gangly teenager currently nervously drumming his fingers on Arthur’s bed, he had never even considered men, really. He didn’t know if any man had.

He didn’t know if anyone before them had ever done _this_.

But _this_ seemed to have reached its natural conclusion. Merlin, naught yet nineteen bouts around the sun, had moved up the ranks from manservant to court sorcerer, and also from friend-if-princes-had-friends to male-liaison-if-prince’s-had-male-liaisons.

Arthur observed him, a little pink tongue sticking out between tight teeth, cross-legged. The mage brought a long, white hand up to tuck some stray brown waves behind his ear, having grown his hair out long over the past year. While Arthur teased him about it, he did find it quite appealing, in the right light.

Merlin didn’t look quite grown, he did look significantly more mature than the fifteen-year-old who had come crashing into his life. Before Guinevere. Before his sister. Before his father, well, before he saw clear his father’s heart.

“We carry on” Arthur replied limply, eyes cast down at the fringe around the oriental rug, tracing the imperfections, unwilling to meet the startling blue of the eyes undoubtedly attempting to shatter him.

“Forever?” Merlin asked in a small voice, after a moment. It was an unsure kind of noise.

“You know, you know it can’t be forever”

“But what if it could?”

Arthur raised his eyes.

Merlin had seen Arthur at depth’s the older man would never admit to sinking. Merlin had attempted and completed feats that no man should be capable of. Merlin had betrayed him, and not. Arthur wanted to respond, but he couldn’t find it in himself to break what little hope Merlin had left.

So they stood like that, diametrically opposed, staring at each other across the room, too comfortable, too casual, too close. Not close enough.

“Do you want to marry someone else?” Merlin asked in a voice that was so unlike the brash, confident peasant.

Arthur felt that there were two roads in front of him, two possible paths.

_Either he tells the uncomfortable, painful truth, and they follow this liaison to it’s painfully drawn conclusion in however many months, or with luck years, they had. Or he lies. He puts things back in order. He breaks Merlin’s heart and redraws the lines of their friendship. He helps Merlin find a suitable, discreet partner. Arthur gets married. And that would break Arthur’s heart._

But what sort of lie would that be, to tell someone you love you don’t love them? The sort of lie he would have told, before Merlin. Before he fell into a part of himself he didn’t know existed. Before he really gave his heart to Guinevere. Before he felt it break.

“No.”

That was the answer Arthur felt fall from his lips, seemingly before his brain could issue the command.

“So, why don’t you marry me?” Merlin asked, looking at him, serious, but with a twinkle of something Arthur had honed a keen awareness for over the years. While Arthur would normally rebuff Merlin for such foolishness, there was something in the younger man that made Arthur pause.

“Don’t be daft” Arthur replied, no bite, almost a question.

“You’ve. . . lied with women” Merlin stated, as though there was a conclusion implicit in his statement.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, moving to stand straighter, relaxing the grip of his fingers and feeling the blood rush back in. He took a moment to stretch them a few times, feeling the taut pull of the tendons, comforted by the physical sensation.

“As you know” Arthur replied.

“You. . . you’re not, you well, _this_ persists, despite our. . . similarities” Merlin struggled to find the words, gesturing back and forth between them. “At least, for you” The warlock added, finally blushing.

Arthur felt like he was suddenly catching onto the thought that Merlin had already run miles away with.

“My fondness is not exclusively centered on your, ah, particulars” Arthur supplied, seemingly in agreement.

“So, what if I, just – what if I had the right particulars?” Merlin asked, eyelids fluttering down.

Arthur felt his jaw drop open. Merlin couldn’t seriously be suggesting. . .

Suddenly a number of details came crashing into Arthur’s consciousness all at the same time, coalescing into an almost complete thought.

Merlin, as court sorcerer, had taken to wearing long robes, dark blue and green. They were fetching, but also concealing, though synched slightly at the waist. They stopped mid-calf to reveal tightly tunicked legs and little boots, understated but nicer than the ones that had brought him to Camelot all those years ago. The whole look was conservative, but, Arthur had often thought privately, much closer to what the ladies of the court would wear, if just a bit shorter.

Merlin’s hair had grown almost to his shoulders, shaping itself into pleasing dark mahogany waves that picked up red and gold tones in the bright sun. Arthur would sometimes stroke it, contented, when Merlin curled up into his side at night, lounging in that space somewhere between waking and sleep.

And, Arthur couldn’t help but notice, though he would never comment on it, that Merlin had directed almost no attention to himself in their, well, nocturnal activities. Even less so as time had gone on.

Arthur’s attention focused back on the mage sat in front of him, suddenly having a hard time swallowing in order to speak. There was a thought bubbling in his mind that couldn’t become words, though eventually he came out with –

“Magic?”

Merlin looked up at him then, clearly relieved not to have suffered immediate rejection. He nodded like a child.

“You can’t mean – you can’t want, _that_. Do you want that?” Arthur asked, suddenly feeling quite sick at the particulars, imagining himself in Merlin’s theoretical position.

“It’s. . . complicated” Merlin replied, suddenly hearing the vulnerability in his own voice. Arthur heard it, too, and before either could really think, Arthur was at Merlin’s side, sitting on the corner of the bed the mage had claimed at the beginning of the night. Arthur thought the better of actually touching Merlin though, opting instead for simply offering the comfort of physical closeness. Merlin looked up at the king, grateful for the timid reassurance.

After a moment of eye contact neither really understood, Merlin continued.

“I, I don’t have a good way to explain it, really. It’s like, you know how you like wild strawberries, and you like currants? And you don’t really care for one over the other? And, if you had good reason to only eat currants, and never strawberries for the rest of your life, you wouldn’t be bereft? And you feel like you would probably even like currants by themselves so much that you wouldn’t even miss strawberries?”

Merlin said this rather all at once, then paused, waiting to gauge a reaction, then adding –

“Well maybe I’m the ‘you’ and well, the fruits are the, you know”

Arthur looked at Merlin then, very sharply.

“You are suggesting that you could, through magic, become, essentially, no different from a natural-born woman” Arthur stated, though it was really a question. Saying the words felt wrong.

“Essentially”

“And this is something you, you would undertake willingly?” Arthur asked again, still somewhat baffled.

“Yes.”

“Just for, just to, be with me?” Arthur asked, worrying he was asking the wrong question.

“Yes, and no. Not just for you. Not just for me either. For us, together. For the possibility of, well, a future together. The two of us.”

Arthur was silent.

“Is the idea, is it repulsive to you?” Merlin asked in a quiet voice, pulling back almost infinitesimally.

Arthur didn’t answer right away. He picked the idea up in his mind, completely unclear as to the specifics, and in fact starting to become worried about them. Putting those worries aside, though, he could imagine Merlin, his Merlin, but with softer features, curves replacing straight-arrow lines, an ample chest, the ability to ripen with their child. . .

No, the idea _certainly_ did not repulse him.

“Absolutely not.” Arthur answered. Merlin sagged in relief. “Here, let’s both think about it, sleep on it, yeah?”

Merlin looked up at him, something like hope in his eyes “Yeah?”

“Yeah” Arthur smiled back into the piercing blues.

The king got up then, moving about his chamber, readying things for sleep. When he moved to return to the bed, he saw Merlin standing there awkwardly, illuminated only by the light of the single lit candle posted on the bedside table.

Arthur smiled at him, taking his time climbing into bed, not breaking eye contact, before settling himself under the covers, Merlin still hovering uncertainly.

“Going somewhere? Important midnight magic meeting?” Arthur poked.

“I just wasn’t sure if you needed. . . time” Merlin said to the ground, still rooted to the floor by the souls of his bare feet.

“I never want you anywhere but here” Arthur replied, so sincerely it startled him slightly.

“Okay.”

Merlin’s smile made Arthur’s heart break and heal and fall even deeper into the black hole of devotion.

Merlin made to climb into bed, having been wearing one of Arthur’s nightshirts for the past several hours anyway, which endearingly overshadowed his tiny frame. As soon as the sorcerer got one knee onto the mattress, Arthur pounced, grabbing Merlin’s middle and pulling his lover onto his chest, both of them struggling, laughing, the tension from earlier clearing almost entirely from the air around them.

The king tucked the smaller man, well, the smaller person into his side, protectively curling himself around the warmth. He nosed away some of the hair at the nape of Merlin’s neck, his lips connecting with the skin there.

“You’re so incredible. You are the most incredible person to ever walk the face of the earth”

“Stop it”

“I mean it”

“I know.” Merlin paused, some of the earlier uncertainty returning to his body. “I love you.”

Arthur paused in turn.

“I love everything about you. Absolutely. Completely.”

“Those are almost wedding vows” Merlin pushed his luck.

“Yeah. They are.”


	2. Make Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur's lives are on the cusp of a significant change, though there's quite a bit of work yet to be done.

A few days later found Merlin, Arthur, and a clan of other council members being served pheasant while one of their number pontificated on the relative benefits and drawbacks of bridge repairs on their southern border. This left Merlin rather utterly confused on what relevant input he could possibly provide, choosing instead to move his succulent mid-afternoon meal around his pewter plate.

One of the biggest surprises is how little _work_ advisors and nobles undertook. Merlin’s life now was so drastically different from his years of servitude, though for so long he (and all the servants, still) had been made to believe that the lives of those they served were more difficult and arduous than their own. This had proven, at least to Merlin, to be laughably false.

Merlin’s mind came back to the room with all the eyes of the council members fixed on the mage’s face, half a roast carrot speared on his fork. His eyes darted to Arthur, who was giving him a half-smirk. Merlin’s face heated at that, having clearly been caught in a mental wandering.

“Yes” Merlin ventured, moving the word around in his mouth.

The elderly pontificator replied “So there is a way to employ sorcery as a cost saving measure in masonry repairs?”

 _Oh joy_ , Merlin thought.

“I believe so” Merlin said, having never considered something so dull in his entire life before.

“Excellent. I’ll provide you with a copy of our current estimates, and if you could return with your revised cost appraisal for our next meeting it would be much appreciated.” the man said. Merlin realized that he couldn’t remember the lords name.

“Oh absolutely” Merlin intoned. The mage heard Arthur’s involuntary laugh from across the table.

* * *

That afternoon, after escaping the meeting in which Merlin had apparently volunteered himself to become the head of the subcommittee on annual public masonry budgeting, the wizard stood in his new quarters, which were part bedchamber and part study.

Along one wall stood a bookshelf which held all the magical volumes he had been able to amass, starting with the spell book gifted to him by Gaius what felt like eons ago. Now a fair number of tomes graced his shelf, collected with help from the druids and a handful of practitioners he had been able to consult with in other kingdoms, many of whom had fled Camelot during the Purge. He even had a few from Geoffrey’s collection that Uther had missed, tomes which skated around but did not instruct in the practice of magic.

Those not on the shelf were left strewn on Merlin’s work table, whose existence could only be surmised by the fact that there had to be some object supporting the mass of papers, tomes, and curious objects in the center of the space. Merlin was able to make sense of it, mostly. Compiling the kind of research he was undertaking was no easy feat, especially with the limitations on his resources.

The object of his current attention, though, was the full-length mirror that hung on the opposite side of the room near his bed. He had positioned it earlier (with magic, of course) against the far wall, allowing him to stand back with enough room to take in his body completely.

Stripped down to his smalls, Merlin assessed every facet of his reflection. There was the face, first. Big eyes, he knew he had big eyes. Cheekbones that were, if he was going to be honest with himself, feminine enough. His nose, though, he didn’t like his nose. Well, he didn’t like the current state of his nose, anyway.

Surrounding his mirror were papers he had tacked to the wall. One section was entirely devoted to the noses of women he observed. He was no artist, but he had a good enough eye, and had determined that his was too obvious in the middle.

 _Easy enough_ , he thought. Such cosmetic features were, ultimately, rather the least of his concerns. In fact, with a thrill, Merlin realized that he could probably make the needed facial adjustments at that very instant.

The mage stopped himself, though. Not yet.

He continued raking downward. His frame was lithe enough, even if he was a little on the tall side _. A lot on the tall side,_ an unhelpful voice chimed in. While he had done research on how to take off some inches, it seemed to be vastly more complicated than it first appeared. Nothing he couldn’t undertake, but certainly in the grand scheme not pressing.

His examination brought him to the first area of strict necessity – his chest. From his discussions with Gaius (all under the guise of strict curiosity), it seemed that simply having the right essential equipment would foster the growth of tissue there. However, the ability to feed a child was another matter.

The mage felt at the skin there, poking at a nipple with his right hand, fingers tracing the skin back along his ribs. There was practically nothing there now. Inserting the right framework to produce milk – it was possible, but it was a challenge. He glanced up at the biological drawings he had taken from Gaius’s office. They came from somewhere in the east, and he didn’t understand the notation around the illustration of the vivisected breast, but he understood the mechanics well enough.

Moving on, his stomach, viewed alone, was pleasing to him. Soft, not muscled, but flat. There was no hair there, as he had seen on some men.

 _An androgyne_ , that best described the vision in the mirror, Merlin thought.

He supposed, looking on the optimistic side, there were worse places to start.

This downward examination, however, brought him to the main object of his attention. He studied his crotch intently, still wrapped in the small clothes. Though he would never tell anyone of these hours of intense study, he still felt embarrassment while he reached his hand down, pulling the current residents of that area back and away, inflicting a bit of unnecessary pain on himself.

He studied that reflection, the reflection of a smooth area between his legs. He liked it. Aside from all the reasons, aside from the knife in his gut every time he thought of having Arthur marrying someone else again, having this time had a taste of him, no less, there was a part of him, entirely separate, that just _liked_ this view. Liked this reflection better, despite its faults.

There was a sudden knock on the door and Merlin scrambled, but before he could get two steps toward a young woman entered his room, freezing when she saw him.

Flidas.

The young druid midwife had come back with Merlin from one of the farther camps as part of what he termed his “exchange program.” So far he had only convinced a handful of druids to come back with him to Camelot, but he hoped soon he would convince some Camelot citizens to return the favor.

There had been quite the huff when Merlin had returned with her, both a magic user and a woman being appointed as Gaius’s apprentice, expected to treat the nobility. However a combination of her revolutionary sanitation practices and understanding of anatomy (leave it to the druids, Merlin thought) had dropped the number of botched attended births to zero in the months she had been here.

“The point of the knock is to wait for someone to call you in” Merlin huffed, unable to make eye contact. Then he realized who he was reminding himself of and cringed inwardly.

“Sorry, I’m still getting used to that part” Flidas replied, unabashed, but having made no move further into the room, hovering by the open door.

It was true, the customs of propriety in Camelot were vastly different from the free ways of the druids.

Another moment passed and neither made to move, stuck in their awkward position. It was Merlin who finally broke the silence.

“Well, what do you need?” he asked.

“Oh, uhm-” The druid blinked a few times, clearly still taking in Merlin’s current position and the articles around the room, particularly around the mirror. She finally cast her eyes down to her hands, where she was holding a carton of vials with tags. “Oh, yes, Gaius needs to you cast the final spells on these and double check the potencies.”

She held them out towards Merlin, but not really far enough for him to feel comfortable grabbing them. He seemed to feel much more out of place than she did, even though he was in his own chambers.

“What are you, uhm, if you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing?” Flidas intoned, still holding the carton a few inches out in front of her.

“I do mind your asking” Merlin huffed, moving to retrieve the carton from her outstretched hand then moving past her, awkwardly skirting around the edge of his bed.

“Okay” her voice returned, still unfazed. Merlin set the box down on his completely eclipsed work table on top of some hypotheses papers about the formation of the ovum, which he had been carefully attempting to translate from Greek. There was a reason his chambers were normally private.

“Well, thank you” he said as he sat down in his chair, clearly meaning to end the awkward interaction, feeling more and more naked by the minute.

“Right” Flidas replied, pursing her lips slightly. “If you need, ah, help with anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks” Merlin said to the wall, steadily avoiding her gaze until the door shut behind her. The mage took a moment ensure it was locked, this time.

In all Merlin’s careful research, the one thing he was sure of is that no one had ever undertaken a full, intended, permanent transition of this nature. There was no extant single spell that would fulfill the laundry list of requirements he had been able to compile, and even now he was sure there were some he was missing.

While Merlin was sure this enterprise was possible, he was also very sure that it was difficult. He had also, for all his research, reached a bit of a wall in terms of practical study.

He didn’t, in the strictest terms, understand with all the necessary nuance the exact result he was trying to achieve, having not had experience, so to say, up close and personal with a processor of the desired equipment. He also knew he did not want to undertake this without a failsafe operator, another magic user, preferably equally (or more) informed as himself.

Well, fuck, at least the _most_ awkward moment was probably behind them.

* * *

That night, Merlin was called to Arthur’s chambers. They had not been exactly avoiding each other the last couple of days, but Merlin had decided to give Arthur room after their conversation several nights previous.

The mage dressed nervously, quickly, but paused, fiddling with his hair. He had grown it intentionally over the last year, a sort of first toe dipped into this idea that had taken root when he and Arthur had returned to Camelot, unscathed, neither dead, and for the first time, without a deadly enemy or threat.

He pulled the front parts back, as he had seen some ladies of the court style their own locks. _If all goes according to plan,_ you _will be a lady of the court_ supplied an uncalled for voice in his head. Something about that fact made him feel absolutely wrong and silly. He didn’t, he didn’t feel like a noblewoman, that’s for sure.

Merlin thought about being addressed as her, she, my lady. That part, that part felt correct. Merlin thought about bearing children, rubbing the flatness where there could be round lines. Merlin thought, maybe, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be a noblewoman, but he just didn’t want to be secluded to only those proper activities, he certainly would never be a successful darner of breeches.

Pulling back to himself, he fiddled again with his hair, loosening some of the very front strands, letting them down to frame his face.

_Better._

He hurried to Arthur’s rooms.

* * *

He knocked, the memory of his earlier embarrassment reminding him to wait to hear Arthur’s voice on the other side.

The first thing that struck the mage was that, though the chambers were not decorated, they were notably cleaner. They were certainly cleaner than they had ever been during Merlin’s tenure as Arthur’s manservant. Not a single quill was out of place, absolutely everything tidy.

Then Merlin’s eyes fell on Arthur. He was dressed in a white shirt and breeches, his feet bare against the stone floor. He was standing in the middle of his spacious rooms, as though he had been nervously awaiting Merlin’s arrival. The mage quickly entered and closed the door behind him, moving in a few steps before stopping again.

There was no food, but Arthur wasn’t dressed for sleep either, and besides, it felt to early for that. Tracing his eyes upward, Merlin did notice one odd thing that hadn’t caught his eye on first glance – Arthur was wearing a small circlet. Very unusual for such a setting.

Their eyes met, and it was clear that neither really knew what to say. Arthur went with –

“I like your hair. Like that, I mean”

“Oh, thanks. Thank you”

“Do you” Arthur cleared his throat “Do – here, let’s sit down.”

Arthur made to pull out Merlin’s chair for him at Arthur’s table, which was free from any papers at all. The king even waited until Merlin was comfortably seated before walking around to his own chair.

 _Is that a good sign?_ questioned a nervous Merlin, who could never remember Arthur doing anything remotely that courteous for the mage before.

“I have a few questions about, about what we spoke about, the other night”

“Okay”

“Alright”

Merlin stared at Arthur, waiting for him to begin. The king paused, though, before qualifying –

“A number of them are indelicate, and I hope you’ll forgive me for that, but I don’t see any way to ask them delicately, given the subject matter”

“Of course”

“Okay” Arthur paused. “Firstly, will any part of what you proposed put this at significant risk of death? If so, that is the end of this discussion.”

“No” Merlin replied, and it was not a lie. By his estimation, the worst outcome would be rather unfortunate disfiguring, but the mage couldn’t imagine a scenario where he lost life or (actual) limb.

“Would, would the birth of a child be any more dangerous for you than for any other woman?”

“That one is difficult to answer. I don’t think so, but I’m not sure that anyone would be able to say for sure.” Merlin supplied. He didn’t want to offer false reassurance.

Arthur seemed to pause on that, but he didn’t draw back. It seemed to Merlin that he could feel the distance between them palpably, each inch of air stretching out into an eternity of space. He didn’t like that at all.

Arthur seemed to feel the same way, however, because he brought out his hand, tentatively, to rest on Merlin’s clasped hands. Their eyes met, and for a moment all of that distance closed to nothing.

Arthur drew his hand back, though, before resuming his line of questioning.

“Has this, to your knowledge, ever been attempted?”

“No”

Another pause. Something seemed to shift in Arthur, then, there was a definite nervousness, but if Merlin could read him correctly, there seemed to be an excitement as well.

“To be clear, you would willingly, through magic, remove your male, hm, components, in order to, like a natural born woman, lie with me and conceive and heir.”

“Yes”

“Magic would not be, strictly speaking, involved in the conception of said heir” Arthur asked. Merlin could tell that the origin of this question lied with Arthur’s fear about his own mother’s demise.

“No”

“You would also, socially, politically, become my queen, my. . . wife” Arthur asked, more softly than he had been speaking.

“Yes” Merlin supplied “Though I would still be the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the face of the earth, so, jot that down. I’m fairly certain that power is in now way connected to my genetalia”

“Only fairly certain? Hmm, doubting ourselves are we, mighty chosen savior?”

Their tense discussion fell, blessedly, into their particular brand of fond mimicry for a relieved moment. 

“Technically I am the embodiment of the power of the old religion and you are the savior, I think. Still not clear on the particular dogmatic limitations.”

“ _Dogmatic_ ’s a big word for you”

“Oh har har, I’ve read more tomes than you’ve ever even heard of.”

“I suppose that’s true” Arthur intoned seriously, tension returning to his shoulders. He moved his right hand down to his lap. “This is something you’ve thought about seriously and completely, and are willing to undertake?” Arthur looked blazingly into Merlin’s eyes.

“Yes” Merlin replied, for the first time absolutely sure. There was something in the implicit support of Arthur’s questioning that made his greatest fear – that this was insanity – dissipate. At that moment, the blond pulled something out of his pocket, bringing whatever it was to the table with a clack, the object still hidden by tan fingers.

Arthur slid his hand across the table, the sound of hard objects scraping, not unpleasant, but distinct, filled the room. Merlin stared in open fascination, apprehensive, and unsure. He couldn’t fathom what this could be. Merlin watched the hand slide squarely in front of him, stopping a couple of inches away from the mage’s own clasped hands. Arthur, normally so collected, darted his tongue out to his lips quickly, then bit his bottom lip ever so slightly. Merlin saw that movement, then saw the kings hand pulled away.

Left behind on the dark wood of the table was a ring. Merlin’s first thought was confusion, staring down at it. He reached a long pointer finger out, pulling it slightly closer, examining the fine, tiny jewels encrusted in the band.

“It was my mother’s” the King supplied, pulse racing in his neck.

Merlin was staring, dumbfounded, until Arthur’s words finally hit his brain and allowed him to crash into a moment of clarity. He looked up at Arthur, unsure when he had started to cry.

This was a _proposal_.

An implicit approval. A plan. An invitation to proceed.

It was quiet. It was perfect.

“You mean it?” the Mage felt his voice break.

“I would be a fool not to” Arthur returned, taking the ring back in his own hand, only to grasp Merlin’s shaking hand and slide it down the slim ring finger.

It fit perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here I am. I can't promise a chapter a day (even though I should). 
> 
> I have decided that the kingdom is run like a government now instead of how things actually were in the ninth century because I can do whatever I want (not like the show runners were ever that concerned about accuracy). Also the thought of year-over-year expenditure analysis in Camelot tickles me. 
> 
> I have one serious note about pronouns. I have thought a lot about pronouns. I have made decisions about pronouns. I have decided to change the pronouns in the language of the writing as a character's pronouns change in their life for the sake of clarity and to be honest to experience as much as I can, though I still feel a little weird about it. If anyone has thoughts, throw em my way.


	3. Little Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the final preparations complete, Merlin has one last dark night before the dawn.

When Merlin’s chambers became too cramped for his work with Flidas, they took over Arthur’s. While originally the King stared in a kind of open-mouthed shock as they (magically) imported crate after crate of research, diagrams, and half-completed spell derivations, he eventually become accustom to only entering his room to sleep, gently reminding his Merlin it was time to stop for the day. Often this was past the moons peak, the room lit only by firelight and the suspended, glowing orbs of Merlin’s creation.

Even such a small act of magical creation, inconsequential to the point of being unnoticeable to Merlin, struck an awe in Arthur.

One night, several weeks after Arthur had proposed, there was a gravity in the room when the King entered. There was no talking, and both researchers were still, the druid seated at the table, Merlin facing the fire, staring into it. Nothing appeared notably different than it had in weeks previous, if simply more cluttered as the mages’ work progressed.

Flidas inspected him, inscrutable, then silently made to leave. Arthur noticed her lean down to pluck a pair of boots from under her chair, not bothering to put them back before she slunk out barefooted, holding the shoes by their laces. She gave him a nearly imperceptible nod as she left, though whether it was in deference or warning Arthur was unsure.

“I’m still the king” Arthur half-joked in reference to the druid’s impolite exit, attempting to cut the tension he didn’t understand.

“To her you’re still in the probationary period of your kingship, I think, given what your father did.” Merlin supplied, still not turning to look at him.

Arthur felt a pang of hurt, somewhere between jealously resultant from exclusion and disappointment. He had legalized magic. He knew that it hadn’t, could never, be enough to heal the wounds of a persecuted people, but he often feared that he hadn’t done enough yet to even heal the hurt of the person he cared for most.

“I suppose that’s fair” Arthur replied diplomatically, eons away from the explosive, petulant response he would have given just years before.

They stood in silence for a moment, two, Arthur unsure if he was supposed to move closer or move away. A shift had occurred, and he wasn’t sure if it was favorable or poor, only that it was definitive. Anxiety broiled in his stomach, desperate for an answer, suspended and waiting for impact.

Merlin drew a breath.

“We did it” the mage announced.

Silence.

“Well, we found a way to do it, I should say” came the clarification.

“Oh” was all Arthur could find in response.

Merlin turned then, staring Arthur square in the face. Their eyes locked, and Arthur could see the glint of fond challenge in Merlin’s eyes.

Arthur’s face split into a wide, uninhibited smile, the tops of his cheeks burning from the pull.

Something in Merlin seemed to release, then, and the warlock ran into Arthur’s arms, jumping, being caught round the middle.

After a few moments, Merlin supplied “Sorry, I just, I wasn’t sure if you would have changed your mind.”

Arthur rubbed his face against the warlocks (smooth from all stubble, as it had been for several weeks, _an early experiment?_ he wondered).

“I proposed to you. I’m not going to renege on that, Merlin.” Arthur whispered, then pulled back to look at his intended.

“And you’re still on board with the, the publicity of it all?” Merlin asked, some timidity returning to the set of the mage’s shoulders.

“Absolutely” Arthur supplied immediately, unfaltering.

They had decided in their early talks that Arthur would announce their engagement and imminent nuptials as soon as Merlin was sure that his undertaking was possible and more than likely to succeed. Arthur felt no emotional need to ‘spin’ their forthcoming marriage as anything but a celebration of love. However, they both agreed that, in announcement to the council then to the public, there would need to be an angle to engender support. They had gone with “near-guaranteed heir,” “unity of governing forces,” and “reestablishing positive relationships with magical communities.”

They also agreed that they would move forward as soon as possible. Merlin and Flidas would begin the actual work tomorrow, in all likelihood. This fact passed between them, unspoken but present, like a weight.

“Okay” breathed Merlin.

“Perfect” Arthur whispered reverently, stroking Merlin’s cheek.

“Not yet” Merlin near-snorted, clearly rebuking.

“Hey” Arthur cautioned, taking Merlin’s chin gently between his forefingers “none of that. You are stunning now, and I am incredibly attracted to you. This is not. . . _fixing_ , and I don’t want to hear anything of that sort.”

Arthur had started to understand over the past couple of weeks that Merlin had a kind of quiet but inherent distaste for his body. Arthur, though he had teased Merlin over the years, thought this ridiculous. The waifish, ethereal boy could have chosen from a myriad of female partners in Camelot, and Arthur was sure that if there were any men with similar proclivities they would have been at the door as well if beckoned.

“Yes, yes, okay” Merlin muttered, admonished.

“Good” Arthur kissed him soundly, meaning it as punctuation, but letting out a surprised moan when he felt the mage’s tongue worm its way between his lips.

Arthur grabbed Merlin around the middle, reasserting dominance and biting at Merlin’s bottom lip, taking advantage and licking into Merlin’s mouth, insistent but nuanced. _Practiced_ , Merlin hated to think.

Arthur started to walk them backward toward the bed, avoiding congregations of cluttered papers and tomes, before roundly grabbing the mage and lifting the lithe form before depositing it on the bed.

“Careful!” Merlin squealed at being dropped, clearly not terribly distressed.

“Oh, I know” Arthur growled “I’m handling very precious cargo.” The king propelled himself onto the bed, all the cat-like athletic control of a well-trained, lithe warrior.

He descended on Merlin, now sideways on the bed, nipping at the mage’s neck, shoulder, hand moving up the slim torso, before moving to the buttons that were blocking access to his ultimate query.

Arthur moved down the line, Merlin staring up at him in a kind of awe. Even after all this time, Merlin often felt that it must be a dream, having this be real after so many seemingly insurmountable obstacles and hours of silent, painful pining.

When Arthur had revealed Merlin’s pale ( _hairless, again_ ) chest and pushed open the garment, he found himself eye level with Merlin’s clearly interested crotch, and stopped.

In the last several months, Merlin had directed all attention away from his own need, and though Arthur silently noted that, he had never given it an overabundance of thought.

Now, though, they both went stock-still, neither wanting to break the tension, or sure how to, until Arthur spoke.

“Do you want me to. . .” he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“What, are you planning to throw him a goodbye party?” Merlin retorted with surprising levity.

“Would you. . . like me to?” Arthur asked, half seriously, questioning where the limits were to their activities.

“I. . . don’t know” Merlin replied, suddenly much more serious.

Arthur crawled up the bed, lying next to Merlin, leaning on his side. His own erection studiously objected, but it had never excelled at reading a room. Instead, Arthur opted for stroking Merlin’s face softly. They were silent, the moment not ruined, just shifted, Merlin clearly considering something very intently.

“I, I know, that, well. . .” Merlin trailed off, loosing whatever nerve he had built. Several moments went by before Merlin finally whispered “I am scared, you know?”

“I know. I am too” Arthur supplied.

“I just, I didn’t want you to, I don’t know, get to used to the current terrain if it was going to be reformed.” Merlin rushed. “Plus, I was never the biggest fan, or felt uncomfortable with _it_ , but, now, devil-you-know, cold feet, all that.”

“Hey” Arthur uttered. “Stop thinking so much, at least tonight. Save some juice for tomorrow, I know you’re working on a limited supplied.” The king cracked a smile.

“You’re one to talk” Merlin huffed.

“Just. . . let me?” Arthur questioned, gesturing to Merlin. “I want to go, ah, galloping through the old familiar fields one last time.”

“Okay my metaphors might not be the best but that was truly terrible” Merlin squeaked, face cracked into the biggest grin Arthur remembered him smiling. “cabbage-head” Merlin added, muttering.

“I’ll show you cabbage head” Arthur descended, positively tearing Merlin’s clothes away, discarding the tunic on the floor, pushing Merlin up the bed and righting them both, Merlin falling with an “oof” to the pillows.

Merlin started to let out small, breathless moans as Arthur attacked the mage’s neck, tweaking nipples and running large, strong hands over ribs. The king descended to sucking one of Merlin’s nipples into his mouth, biting gently at the head, his hands working to get Merlin out of the tight trousers.

Arthur avoided the areas he though would cause Merlin to object, though he did move down, kissing all the way, to bite at Merlin’s hipbone, looking up at his intended.

 _Fiancé_ , he thought, head spinning.

Though Merlin’s erection was obvious, Arthur didn’t want to disturb it, instead opting to quickly remove his own tunic and breeches, Merlin sitting up to assist him quickly, before being pushed back down by the much stronger monarch. The mage felt a thrill at being so easily handled.

Arthur landed back on top of Merlin, both of them freed of their clothes. He mouthed at Merlin’s neck and shoulder, knowing the mage’s sensitivity there, as he reached for the oil kept on the bedside table.

This part had always been, well, strange to Arthur. Well, if not strange, then at least foreign. Merlin had introduced him to this concept, and he had blanched at the idea those months ago. Though he had definitely found pleasure in it, and tried very hard to never appear wrong-footed, he did privately wonder how someone could enjoy it.

Nonetheless, he made his way down again, nipping all the way, causing Merlin to squeak in a way he found most pleasing. Finally, he settled himself between Merlin’s legs, taking no small amount of joy in pushing Merlin’s knees up. He did like this part of it, the positioning, feeling so, if he was being honest, intimately accepted, put in charge of something so delicate.

“You know” Arthur started cheekily, circling Merlin’s rim “if you think about it, we could still do this part” he started to work a finger in “no matter what.”

“I think – oh!” Merlin panted, breaking when Arthur pushed his finger inside to the second knuckle abruptly, teasing “if all goes to plan, you’ll probably find another area of interest.”

“I just wanted to remind you” Arthur supplied, nipping at the underside of Merlin’s thighs.

The first times they had done this Merlin had done the work of stretching beforehand, Arthur amazed as he was able to enter the mage in a way he never would have thought possible. He had started doing it himself, though, wanting to feel that he was involved, wanting things to feel less mechanical.

“Though I know” Arthur added, at the same time introducing a second finger “that rather a lot of the benefit would be absent on your side of things.” He punctuated this point by skimming his fingers over the spot inside Merlin that drove the warlock absolutely insane.

“Yeah” Merlin breathed, suddenly tense and very far away. Arthur could feel the tension everywhere.

“Hey, now” Arthur tapped Merlin’s hip with his free hand “come back to earth, there.”

“I’m just…”

“I know”

“What if…” Merlin trailed off

“Now is not the time for what ifs” Arthur snarked, leaning down to bite Merlin’s thigh “this is a joyous occasion, you know”

“Is it?” Merlin inquired

“This is the beginning, the preamble, to the rest of our lives” Arthur whispered, leaning up close to Merlin’s head now.

They both felt the mood shift, Arthur plunging back down, nipping at Merlin’s legs, and taking a risk, grabbing Merlin’s cock with an oiled hand.

“Now” Arthur stated, putting on a sort of regal air as Merlin gasped. “This is going to be, at least by me, a sorely missed asset.” He stroked it a couple of times, spreading oil on his own cock with his other hand. “But you are so, stupidly brave, and beautiful, and powerful.”

Arthur brought both his hands back then and lined up, leaning down over Merlin who was staring up at him, pleasantly shell-shocked by the show of force. Just then, he grabbed Merlin’s hips and sank in. Merlin muffled a cry of surprise, both at the sudden and forceful penetration, and at the hand that returned to his cock.

“Tonight, you’re going to cum on my cock” Arthur muttered, leaning up to whisper in Merlin’s ear, still planted to the root in the mage. “And every night for the rest of our lives, in our marriage, you’ll do the same.”

Merlin gasped at the strange, erotic promise. He felt a swirling of disquieting emotions, sensations, the physical pain, vulnerability of being entered, stretched, the emotional promise of this being the last time they, Merlin and Arthur, did this particularly. Sitting on the precipice.

Merlin gasped again as Arthur pulled partly out then thrust in again, hitting his prostate, dead on, almost painfully so. For a biological element he had had to inform Arthur of, Arthur had certainly gotten the hang of its benefits and features.

Arthur scratched down Merlin’s sides and grabbed the mage’s hips, forcing his cock deeper, getting the angle just right to take the warlock apart. To add to the sensation, he took one of his hands and fisted Merlin’s cock, which he hadn’t dared do for months, following Merlin’s lead on avoiding it. Now, liberated by his new understanding, he moved his hand up and down the shaft, then grabbed Merlin’s balls, then moved below, using his fingertips to press above the space where they were joined, still thrusting, his cock carefully placed to fill Merlin and hit that spot that tore him apart.

“I love you” Arthur whispered, and Merlin whimpered in response, overcome by the sensation that was almost too much, made all the more so by that tingling kind of helplessness, knowing he could stop Arthur, but not wanting to, wanting the king to take, take, take. “I’m going to marry you” the king added.

Merlin angled his hips up, panting now, starting to keen. “Yes, yes, YES” was all the warlock could muster.

“Cum for me” Arthur whispered, hitting Merlin’s prostate again and again, grasping Merlin’s cock firmly and balancing himself on his other elbow, then biting beneath Merlin’s ear “Be a good wife, and cum.”

That absolutely threw Merlin over an edge the warlock didn’t know existed. The sensations of Arthur touching him absolutely everywhere, even the parts that made him so unsure, then calling him that, it felt like hours before he came back to himself, blissed out, realizing that Arthur must have come because the King was still, and panting.

A few moments passed before Arthur spoke. “Was that. . . was that okay?” he questioned.

“Yeah” Merlin replied. “Insane, but okay. A one-time pass situation.”

“Okay” Arthur replied “I’m so proud of you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re insanely brave and smart and selfless and kind. Really you’re the one that should be king.”

“Well, it looks like I’m going to have to settle for queen.” Merlin whispered.

“You’re. . . delightfully impossible.”

* * *

Arthur, seemingly exhausted, fell asleep then uncovered. Merlin, similarly yet very differently exhausted, cleaned the mess with magic before lying back, staring at Arthur’s sleeping face.

The cock’s crow found Merlin, dressed in just his over-robe, wandering around the grounds of the castle, down towards the stables, having tossed and turned fitfully next to a sleeping Arthur for the better part of the last four hours.

The mage had the kind of nervous excitement that comes before a battle, but with nowhere to direct his anxious nerves. Instead, having barely slept and watching the light start to peak over the horizon, he had slipped out of Arthur’s (their) bed and wandered his way out the front entry of the castle, the guard there shooting him an odd look but saying nothing.

The court sorcerer wandered into the stables, wanting to see if there was a horse awake to keep him company. The barn door creaked open, though Merlin quickly muffled the noise to avoid making himself obvious. Just as he started to make his was to the row of stables, his foot hit something that gave an indignant grunt, causing the mage to stumble into a nearby beam,

“Ah!” exclaimed Merlin, unsure of what could have made such a noise, throwing up a light to bring his surroundings into greater contrast.

The light revealed the blinking form of Gwaine, who had apparently been sleeping on the stable floors. The knight blinked up at him, that perpetually self-assured, lazy smile already returning to his face. His brown eyes met Merlin’s, reflecting the glowing blue of the lights the mage had thrown about the room.

“Merlin, what a pleasant surprise” Gwaine drawled, moving to lean up.

Merlin had steadied himself, and was now staring at the prone figure of his friend.

“What are you doing here? It’s not yet gone five in the morning.”

“As far as I’m concerned it’s still last night” chuckled the knight, moving to grasp the flagon of spirit kept at his hip. Merlin intercepted, though, his magic bringing the container to his hand. Gwaine let out an indignant gasp.

“Oh, none of that, you’ll have a bad enough headache as it is” Merlin retorted, though without his usual levity, then unstopped the cork to take a drag.

“Oh what, Mr. Magic can do what he likes but I can’t?” Gwaine teased. There was a little bite, the knight having missed his once very close friend in the monthes since the sorcerer had come to his station, his absence increased over the last weeks. Gwaine sensed his ribbing fall flat, though, and paused.

“Something like that.”

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

Merlin knew that he should have told Gwaine, perhaps a few other close confidants. So far the only people that knew were Arthur, Gaius, and his druidic research assistant. There was the uncertainty, sure, but also the terror of judgement.

There was also a problem weighing on his mind at this particular moment that was less. . . philosophical in nature. Gwaine, for all his faults, had always been a loyal friend. Merlin braced himself.

“I. . . something is, happening today.” Merlin blurted, feeling his face redden.

“Oh?” questioned Gwaine, who himself was unsure how to respond to such a vague but weighty statement.

“Yes. I, well, you’ll know soon enough, anyway, but you musn’t tell anyone.”

“Mum’s the word” Gwaine even brought his hand to his lips, miming a lock.

“I, Arthur and I, well. Arthur has proposed to me, and I have accepted” Merlin stated, sensing the insufficiency of his phrasing.

“Have you been on a bender of your own?”

“No! That’s not – it’s, Arthur and I want to be, together. Have been together, but want to do so permanently. And there’s the problem of the heir, and that we wish to be married, which would normally be impossible, but with magic I can, you could call it, I guess, alleviate the problem on my end.”

Gwaine stared at the mage, mouth agape, eyes flitting about his head as he processed. When he did, his eyes trained again on Merlin, his back and arms moving to sit him up straighter, at attention.

“You’re saying that you plan to. . .”

“Become a woman. Or at least, that’s the general outline.”

“Today?”

“Yes”

Gwaine paused, clearly pondering heavily.

“And this is something you want to do? You’re not being, I don’t know, coercered or anything?”

“No” Merlin replied, feeling the beginnings of the hot sting of rejection.

“Wow. That’s, I mean, you can really do that?” Asked Gwaine.

“Yes. I mean, I think so, anyway. I’m, well, I’m prepared as I’ll ever be, as anyone could ever be.” Merlin replied.

“That’s, I mean, that’s kind of bloody brilliant.” Gwaine replied “And you really won’t mind, the, ah, subtractions and alterations?”

“I mean, I don’t, I don’t think so, but it’s, it’s a lot.” Merlin replied. He took another swig, then, and then went to sit on the floor next to Gwaine. “I’m, well, no judgement from the slag of Camelot, yeah?”

“Oh, never” Gwaine replied seriously.

“Okay, well, since you’re the only person I would ever dare bring this up to, I guess your night of irresponsible drinking was fortuitous. I, well, I’m not intimately familiar with the, ah, desired results.” Merlin blushed furiously.

“Oh! You’re having anatomical uncertainties” Gwaine started to waggle his eyebrow then. “Well, Ms. Magic, I don’t know anyone better to answer your queries.”

“Yes yes you whore” Merlin replied, feeling better, feeling accepted, even through Gwaine’s insufferably perpetual conviviality. “Well, if you must know, Arthur and I have been, together, in the way that married people are, for some time.”

“Yes I figured” Gwaine retorted flatly.

“What?” exclaimed Merlin “How could you have figured? We didn’t, we didn’t think anyone else, anyone, even knew it was possible!”

“Oh, the Anglo lot. Bunch of prudes, all of you. In my travails to the far east, I can tell you, I have seen sights, smelled smells, heard sounds that would make every last one of yours and the princess’s hairs stand on end. I assure you, you are not the first people to discover intimacy between men.” Gwaine finished with a flounce of his hand.

“Oh” Merlin blanched “Well, be that as it may, I’m still having a, well, when Arthur and I are together, it’s very good, for both of us. But I don’t know, if it will still be good, or ever be good again, for me.”

“You’re afraid you’ve cum for the last time, is what you’re saying” Gwaine retorted, deadpan.

“Yes, if you insist on putting it in those terms” Merlin replied, worried for his blood pressure as he ocellated between reddening and feeling the blood drain from his face.

“Oh Ms. Magic, you have no idea how much better it is for women. If I wasn’t so fond of my cock, I might sign myself up for one of those magic vaginas you’re handing out.”

“GWAINE” Merlin bellowed loud enough to startle horse in the far stall “Well, okay, that aside, what do you mean?”

“Women, if handled well, can reach what I believe are heights of pleasure unknown to men. I don’t think you have anything to worry about there, assuming you magic everything into place correctly. And hey, if the princess doesn’t treat you right, I’d always be willing to test run the new equipment.”

“Yes, yes, thank you sir knight” Merlin deadpanned.

“Seriously, though, that’s, if you’re sure, it is rather bloody brilliant.” Gwaine said, before pausing “I want to be godfather to all your little nightmare Pendragon heirs.” He blurted, suddenly raucous.

“We’ll see about that” Merlin smiled, secretly relieved to have had this conversation. He made to leave, but Gwaine stopped him with a noise.

“You’re sure it’s safe?”

“I mean, aside from the risk of deformity, yeah” Merlin replied

“Good, I mean, I’m proud of you Merls”

“Thanks” Merlin made it most of the way to the door “Now go sleep off your impending hangover, there’s going to be an important message from our sovereign this afternoon.”

“I wonder what he’ll say.” Gwaine retorted, laying himself back down into the hay, looking downright comfortable. Merlin couldn’t help but smile as he made his way back to the castle, the peaks of it daunting, backlit by the rising sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Here is some porn and also some angst. We will get to the main event in the next chapter I promise. But what does the promise of an author mean anyway?


	4. Life of the World to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur have a stressful, revelatory, miraculous day.

Arthur had never been a particularly patient person. Having been relentlessly doted on as a child certainly hadn’t help during his formative years, and even as an adult he found himself often put on edge by anticipatory anxiety, barking for things to be done faster, hating to wait.

So this, this was an peculiar agony he never could have imagined.

Arthur sat staring at the door he had been so roundly tossed through several hours earlier. He, Merlin, Gaius, and the Druid girl had met in the early morning, the sun shining brightly through his eastern facing windows. The plan, in it’s entirety, was laid out before Gaius for final approval. Though the old man certainly hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of his practical ward taking such “unnecessary” risk, he had finally given his approval.

Arthur blanched at several of the particulars. He felt weak, and out of his element, in over his head. He felt none of the things a king should feel.

So he sat, staring at the door, wondering what was happening behind it, then thinking about all the ways in which this could go wrong.

But even if it didn’t – would Merlin resent him? If not now, what, in ten years? Arthur considered the possibility that Merlin would feel entrapped, or forced, even though the mage had been the one to bring this possibility forward. And Arthur knew that this undertaking was risky enough in and of itself, and there was certainly no reversing it.

Arthur, despite himself, found his mind fixated on the steps regarding Merlin’s nether regions. Merlin explained stoically, and straight-faced, what would have to be done magically and what would be done practically, and that made Arthur desperately uncomfortable.

But still. . . on the other side of this he would have a wife he trusted, and loved, Merlin. And, and he knew that he would try his best, would do his absolute best to give Merlin a good life. Thinking about that made Arthur want to break down the door in a different way, to go and hold Merlin, gently.

He pressed his hands to the cold stone beneath him, feeling little bits of dust grind into the skin of his palms. Merlin would be okay. Merlin would be more than okay.

* * *

After what felt like a short eternity, the door to the chamber finally creaked open. The druid girl poked her head out and murmured something to one of the guards, who went to the patrol at the end of the corridor. They had blocked off the whole wing at dawn, to prevent intruders.

Arthur sprang up, nearly launching himself into the door in his haste. The girl saw him and opened the door slightly further, but not enough to let the king in. _Treason_ , Arthur thought pettily, but made no remark.

“It’s done” she intoned plainly, conveying nothing.

“Well, Merlin’s okay?” Arthur asked, hearing the desperation in his own voice.

“I believe so. Merlin’s asleep now, not sure about pain.” The druid girl paused “You can come in, but no touching. Everything is. . . fragile.”

She cracked the door another couple of inches and then turned on her heel, allowing Arthur to see himself in.

The first thing that overwhelmed him was the smell in the room. It was a medicinal smell, herbs and alcohol, but that wasn’t what set him on edge. That was the sheets. There were sheets covering the floor, some stained with blood. _Don’t think about it_ , Arthur repeated to himself.

After a split second, though, his eyes sought out his bed, around which the curtains had been drawn. Merlin did deserve some privacy, there was no doubt about that. Slowly, feeling the eyes of the Druid girl on the back of his neck, he made his way over to the bed, where there was already a wicker chair sat nearby.

Thick velvet under his fingers, Arthur drew the curtain back, just enough so he could look in, the bed still obscured from most of the room.

He gasped.

Merlin’s face, well, it was fundamentally the same, but some of the features were softer. The chin was less pointed, the brow ridge less pronounced. More delicate. It suited Merlin, most definitely. The face, too, was passive in sleep, and Arthur could only hope his beloved wasn’t in too much pain. 

Arthur spent several moments just staring at Merlin’s face, before moving down the mage’s body, which was clad only in a white shift. Arthur couldn’t tell much, but he could detect the swell of small breasts on the chest, and a graceful curve of the hip.

Overwhelmed, Arthur sat back in the uncomfortable little chair, resting his elbow on the nightstand. He heard the rustle of small voices behind him, and realized that the Druid girl had called for some maids to assist in cleaning up. He reached his hand out and touched Merlin’s hand. Was it always that small, that delicate? He couldn’t be sure, but Arthur smiled as he felt his mother’s ring on the fourth finger, tracing it with his thumb. Arthur couldn’t pinpoint what emotion it was exactly that caused his tears to overflow, but it couldn’t be helped.

He leaned over, and kissed Merlin’s forehead, too.

“Hey, be careful!” the Druid girl barked. Arthur backed up, but didn’t leave, still smiling despite the reprimand. Merlin was okay. Merlin was, undeniably, brilliant. Merlin was, miraculously, his.

* * *

The flesh of Merlin’s lip stung, held as it was, being worried between two rows of teeth. Merlin first became aware of the chapped lips, the dry, uncomfortable tongue. Reflexively, they attempted to lick the sore, bit flesh, but to no avail.

Consciousness returned slowly, first as a mouth without a body, connected only to a consciousness, then a hand that went to move towards that mouth, but was stopped by leaden, dead weight in the arm. Merlin realized that, somewhere, there were ringing bells, and there was also a low groan emanating from closer by, and after several moments realized that they were it’s source, a discomfort coming to blanket the body that was dawning in its awareness.

“Arthur” Merlin croaked after blinking open their eyes, the room, at first blurry shapes, coming into focus. They noticed a chair to the side of the bed, but no one in it. Merlin groaned again, causing a shape to move somewhere to their right.

Merlin looked up, but the form wasn’t Arthur, it was Flidas, who quickly hurried to the bedside.

“Thank the gods you’re awake” She muttered, sounding somewhat huffy and annoyed. Flidas, Merlin learned, was never overly-enthused, even at the sight of minor miracles.

Before Merlin could even respond, Flidas started examining them, touching strategically in their neck and chest, causing Merlin to hiss.

“Swelling, but everything seems fine, no unanticipated reactions” she huffed, still working her way over Merlin’s new breasts, which felt, much like the rest of their body, very sore. Then she touched around Merlin’s right nipple, causing them to flush. Even after all their work together, including at one point, Merlin still blushed to think, a practical demonstration involving a put-out but not unwilling Flidas, the smallest things still caused Merlin prudish embarrassment.

After Flidas determined that all was in order, she moved down to Merlin’s nether regions, doing a final check their as well, Merlin looking quite dutifully at the ceiling. During the work that morning Merlin had taken a mirror to their work in that particular area, but now that it was no longer of such straining import, this was just too much for Merlin to handle.

Deeming all satisfactory, Flidas murmured a standard healing spell, a warm sunshine flowing down Merlin’s body from the top of the head, rolling over and through shoulders and hips, all the way down to their toes. Merlin felt a little better after that.

“Where’s Arthur?” Merlin asked, feeling, on top of everything else, rather needy.

“He was here earlier, but he had another, well, meeting I guess?” She replied.

“Oh” Merlin sighed, trying not to sound too much like a despondent ingénue.

At that moment, there was a bold knock on the door, and Flidas opened it to reveal Arthur, who bounded in and settled into the chair at Merlin’s side. He looked harried, and somewhat manic, a fire in his eyes. Merlin couldn’t help but smile at his entrance.

“Hi” Merlin croaked. It was then that they noticed that their voice, despite it’s hoarseness, was higher.

“Hi” Arthur smiled, reaching out a hand to touch the side of Merlin’s face, this time with no reproach from the healer. “How do you feel?”

“Okay” Merlin assented, and it was true. All things considered, they felt about as good as one could be expected to feel after magically implanting new organs into themselves, among other activities.

“Not too much pain?” Arthur asked, adorably concerned, petting Merlin’s cheek ridiculously gently, as though he was afraid he would break it.

“No” Merlin smiled, and Arthur smiled down at his beloved, staying there for several moments, observing Merlin’s weary smile.

“I have another meeting in a few moments” Arthur intoned “I’ve already informed the lords, and I’ve called for a public announcement in the square.”

It was then that Merlin realized that the bells were that for a Regal Proclamation, sieges, high holy days. Marriage announcements, too, they supposed.

“Good luck out there” Merlin smiled “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to write the speech for you.”

“I know you’ve been busy with other things” Arthur replied fondly, ignoring the goad of Merlin’s superior linguistic abilities. It was true, after all.

“I know you have to go” Merlin whined in a way that made it clear they wanted exactly the opposite.

“I’ll be back in moments” Arthur leaned down to kiss Merlin’s forehead, smelling sweetness there. It was Merlin’s scent, but already it was slightly different. “Rest, you can have anything you desire.”

“You’re so soft when I’m put-out” Merlin snarked lightly

“Don’t tell a soul” Arthur whispered, standing up, then pausing, leaning down again. “I love you forever”

“I love you forever more, clotpole, go make your announcement” Merlin laughed, hearing the difference in their voice, the levity, something lighter even in their intonation.

Arthur smiled, stroking their cheek once more, and strode out of the room.

* * *

That night found Arthur and Merlin in bed, Merlin propped on Arthur, sat between the king’s legs. Merlin, clad in a nightgown, brought their hand up to rub at Arthur’s face behind them, feeling stubble against the pads of their fingers.

Arthur, on the other hand, was being extraordinarily careful with his fingers, all of his parts, really. To be wholly honest, Arthur was endlessly aroused by his intended, the admiration of bravery and talent mixed with a much lower instinct. His hands itched to run down Merlin’s thighs, up to the breasts he could see beneath the white nightshirt. He restrained himself, though, knowing that this was all so soon, so new, giving Merlin time to adjust.

“You don’t think” Merlin started, then paused, before starting again “You don’t think I need to change my name, right?”

Arthur thought on it for a second, before replying “No, certainly not if you don’t want to.”

“But, I am, oh gods, I sound so, so preoccupied – I am, I am a woman, right?” Merlin asked, their voice small.

“Oh. I mean, I haven’t seen the extent of your physical handiwork, but I, I think so. You certainly look like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. But I guess it, it really hinges on how you feel about it.” Arthur replied, feeling out of his depth.

“I, I think that I’ve felt more like a woman for a long time” Merlin replied, small. “It’s hard to describe.”

“Well I think you’re a woman. And I think you’re a beautiful and powerful sorcerer. And I think that, god willing, you’ll be a wonderful mother to our children.” Arthur ventured, hoping his response would be enough.

“Did, today, did you call me she? In your address, I mean.” Merlin questioned, voice small again. Merlin’s voice changed even over the course of the afternoon, coming into itself as a beautiful, lyrical alto, full of strength, but with higher notes when worked-up.

“I, I think so? If I called you anything at all. It’s all a blur, really” Arthur replies honestly, worried he’s done something wrong without even thinking about it, before adding “would you have liked me to?”

“I think so” Merlin replied pensively.

“Then that’s what I shall say. My intended, she will be queen. She will have a beautiful coronation, and one day her children will fill these regal halls.” Arthur addressed to an imagined visitor.

“You think I’m only a brood mare?” Merlin harangued, lightening almost instantly.

“Never! Did I mention, Merlin, she is also a sorcerer of great power, in fact the druids worship her as their god incarnate! No, it’s true, you should meet her.” Arthur smiled, kissing the back of Merlin’s neck.

“I told you that’s not technically true” Merlin laughed.

“Then I’ll just worship you as my god incarnate then” Arthur whispered behind Merlin’s ear, kissing the soft skin there, then moving down to her neck. He suckled behind her ear, and noticed that even her scent was different, sweeter, more delicate.

Merlin let out a moan at the feeling of Arthur claiming the back of her neck, all of her nerve endings still feeling somehow hyper-sensitive, a low chill running through her belly. An entirely new kind of sensation roiled low in her, and at first, it was hard to identify as arousal. It felt more like lightening and falling unexpectedly at the same time, but in a pleasurable way.

Arthur, quite excited to find his advances accepted, ran a hand over Merlin’s linen-clad stomach, feeling the curves of her side. He rubbed his way up to her breast, and felt her breath hitch as ghosted over it then took it in his hand, squeezing lightly. Encouraged by her reaction, he pinched her nipple between his fingers, which caused her to jump slightly and let out a short needy moan.

“Does this feel nice?” Arthur asked, cheekily.

“Yes, ah, you absolute pillock.” Merlin moaned, breath coming faster than normal. At that, Arthur took both Merlin’s breasts in his hands, still biting and ghosting over her neck, and began alternating between plucking at her nipples and squeezing them rhythmically.

“Very sensitive, are we?” Arthur teased as Merlin started to squirm under his touch, trying to rock back into him.

“I’ll take sensitive over any number of other possible outcomes” Merlin panted, voice approaching heretofore unheard heights.

At that Arthur grazed one hand down to Merlin’s upper thigh, dragging light fingers over her hipbone, approaching but not reaching the crease of her thighs.

“Would you like me to do something about it?” Arthur asked, faux-innocent, making slightly firmer motions near her center, then moving down to ghost between her legs.

“Hnnnhhgggg” was all Merlin could come up with in response, starting to squirm in earnest.

Arthur moved with all the speed he dared, coaxing Merlin down the bed and then swinging his leg overtop to straddle her.

“I want to see you, can I see you?” He asked, plucking at Merlin’s nightshirt. At her faintest nod he pulled it up and over her head, causing him to gasp.

Merlin’s body underneath was absolutely perfect. Creamy, pale skin, perfectly pink, rosebud nipples on pert breasts, and a slim, flat stomach. They stared at each other, Merlin’s eyes trained on Arthur's face, Arthur trained on Merlin’s body, tracking his way down her lithe form.

“You are so absolutely beautiful” he whispered.

“Are you going to ravish me, sire?” She goaded, smirking.

“Oh, no” Arthur replied seriously, causing Merlin to falter slightly “I could never despoil my bethrothed before we’re wedded, no, never”

His words hung in the air.

“Are you, are you serious?” Merlin asked.

“Oh yes, I will not be bedding you until after we wed.” Arthur stated plainly.

Merlin started to harrumph.

“Arthur, don’t be-”

“You said yourself we have to be careful about giving everything time to settle”

“Yes, but”

“But what?”

“Can’t we. . . do _something_?” Merlin pleaded, squirming beneath him.

“What did you have in mind?” Arthur questioned. One look from Merlin had him acquiescing, going back in to attack her neck, then mouthing down, taking one of her breasts in his mouth and sucking lightly on the nipple, driving her absolutely insane.

“Well this is, absolutely bizarre.” Merlin panted “I can’t believe I’m about so say this. . .”

Arthur barely paused to ask “What’s that, darling?”

“I am. . . _uncomfortably_ wet.” Merlin threw an arm over her face, blushing.

Arthur laughed, then moved down further, rubbing soothingly over Merlin’s side, then coaxing her legs apart. He gasped.

Leave it to Merlin to even perfect this. It was absolutely perfect, and Arthur could see, and even smell, the apparently uncomfortable intoxicating wetness. He reached his hand down to run a finger between the folds, reverently, and Merlin let out a low grown.

“Oh my gods. Women, women can’t feel like this all the time. I’m never going to get anything done. Nevermind the sorcery, let’s just do this.” Merlin panted, squirming as Arthur ran his fingers gently over her.

“Oh gladly”

“Hnnngg, I need, inside, I think” Merlin panted, throwing the last of her shame out the window.

“Oh no, my lady, that’s a maidenhead to be saved for our wedding night.” Arthur smirked, having already posited himself between her legs.

“Arthur, please, you can’t – oh!” Merlin was about to embark on a lengthy admonishment when Arthur surged forward, enveloping her clit in his mouth. She felt like she couldn’t breath, and then like she could again but too much. It was absolutely electric, the pulsing unfamiliar, every instinct telling her to grind down on Arthur’s mouth, which was doing absolutely artistic things to her clitoris.

Arthur ran a hand up her inner thigh, keeping her exposed, which only increased Merlin’s arousal.

“Oh my gods.” Merlin moaned as she glanced down, briefly, to see her hand tangled in Arthur’s hair, his head buried between her legs. The uncomfortable wetness had morphed into a chasing feeling, Merlin running after sparks of pleasure like she never had before, all of her nerve-endings still ultra-sensitive.

Arthur huffed in response without moving from his work, carefully running his hand up and down Merlin’s thighs, tonging over her clit then moving down, dipping slightly into her before moving back up. He brought one hand to rest just about where his mouth was, which she immediately ground into.

“You are, so, absolutely, amazing” he breathed just loud enough for her to hear before diving back in.

The sensation was so strange, starting, as it never had before, in the soles of her feet. It felt at first more like the inevitability of falling combined with static electricity. All reason left her as Merlin chased the feeling over the edge, shouting and moaning involuntarily as she came.

Shit.

Gwaine was right.

That was. . . so much better.

Merlin panted, then realized that Arthur was holding her, nosing lightly at her neck.

“Hey” she whispered, leaning into him.

“Hey yourself” he replied, smiling.

“Do you want me to-” Merlin started to reach for Arthur.

“Oh no my lady, it wouldn’t be seemly” Arthur smirked.

“Come on you clotpole”

“No really, it’s okay, I’m. . . satisfied”

Merlin stared up at Arthur, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Did you. . . just from-”

“I gave it a little help at the end, but, basically” Arthur bit his lip, entirely confident “What can I say, I’m a sucker for excellent craftsmanship. It doesn’t hurt that you are undeniably, astoundingly beautiful.”

“A little bit of pride in their as well?” Merlin smiled.

“I mean, I did seem to do quite exemplary work.” Arthur bit lightly on Merlin’s ear before kissing her soundly, probing for entrance, then meeting her tongue sweetly.

“You are so, ugh” Merlin beamed, before yawning suddenly.

“Time for sleep?” Arthur questioned, watching as Merlin lied back, pulling the blankets over her still naked form.

Receiving only a light grumble in response, Arthur damped the candle and then tucked himself in behind her, protective, and settled himself into watch Merlin’s face in slumber, lit by the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I did it, both porn and the main event!


	5. One Bread, One Body

The light crept through the windows gradually, hitting further and further inland until a beam came directly across Merlin’s face, finally rousing her. She came first to awareness of something sitting differently within her, though she spent a great deal of time contemplating her own body.

Her heart lurched as soon as she opened her eyes, not immediately recognizing her surroundings. She calmed, however, when she realized she was only in her own chambers, in her own corner of the castle. Arthur often allowed Merlin to sleep in his chambers, curled into his side, though not every night.

As Merlin went to move to her feet, she felt a tightness in her abdomen, like a strained muscle somewhere deep in her pelvis, an insistent ache. She stopped, body suspended in motion. There had been soreness there, certainly, resultant from reforming bone and relocating organs. This was different.

It was more of the fear of uncertainty than the pain itself that stilled her, before a wave rolled through her, felling her back to the bed.

Scenario after scenario flashed through Merlin’s mind, and just as she was about to call for help, she felt something else, something further down between her legs. It was like when she had been with Arthur, the times she had been with him, but without any of the associated pleasure.

Merlin wasn’t entirely surprised when she dipped her hand between her legs and pulled it out reddened with fresh blood. It was different than the blood she had often cleaned from Arthur’s wounds, thicker. She didn’t feel disgusted by it, just unsure.

Then, it occurred to her that she had no idea what to do now.

Women must have a way of dealing with this, it dawned on her belatedly. She thought, firstly, that she should get up and attempt to find Flidas, who would undoubtedly handle her situation effectively, if with a now-familiar air of loving condescension. But as soon as that thought came to her, she realized that she could not move, pain now radiating out from her abdomen, cramping her legs, causing her to curl in on herself.

However, years of constant readiness caused her wit to sharpen, even as the pain wracked her body. Arthur, she needed Arthur. No matter his emotional ineptitudes, he could solve problems, or at the very least find a person who could.

Merlin concentrated all her energy on finding him, commanding him to come. She had never tried to communicate across distance as she was now, but could only hope that it would work.

* * *

Arthur felt a tugging, pulling somewhere in the back of his mind. Though he would normally go to the training grounds after his morning council meetings, he instead headed up to the north tower, despite the fact that he had no reason to think that Merlin was in any need of him.

If it was a wasted trip, it was a wasted trip, no harm to it. He had not been up this way for months, since he usually came back to his chambers to find Merlin diddling about regardless, having some way to insert herself. Not that he minded. Not that he would ever mind her.

What was meant to be a quick trip unfolded wildly, though, as Arthur knocked on Merlin’s chamber door, and received only a faint groan in response.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, the door opening on it’s own before he could unlatch it.

He laid eyes on the bed, where Merlin laid, wrapped around herself like a child. The next moment found him kneeling there, his hand clearing strands of hair from her pain-wracked face.

“Merlin, what’s hurting? Talk to me.” Arthur commanded, with all the confidence of a battle-hardened knight blending into the tone of an unsure pubescent.

“I don’t want to say. . .” Merlin groaned, before paling suddenly, motioning Arthur for a bucket nearby. The king produced it, holding it moronically while Merlin vomited bile.

“Shhh, that’s it.” Arthur comforted after a shocked moment, rubbing Merlin’s back. He was aware in a faraway corner of his brain that he would not have been nearly as kind or understand when Merlin had been his male manservant, not just for want of a more formalized relationship. Before he could think on that further, though, he continued “Merlin, we’ve got to get you to Gaius if you’re ill, and you’ll have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong-” Arthur went to interrupt, but was silenced with a look from Merlin, who continued “I’ve just, it’s well, it seems that they called it a curse for a reason.”

Arthur’s brain clicked pieces together slowly, before finally coming to a response of “Oh, so you mean that you’re, ah. . .”

“Bleeding. The word is bleeding” Merlin finished for the distraught king, trying to reposition herself but finding no relief no matter how she turned. “I have no idea of any spell that makes this better. Or if I would even risk one if I did.”

“Shall I get the druid girl?” Arthur ventured after a tense moment.

“She’s a name, and she’ll be largely to thank for your children one day, so I would watch that tone.” Merlin retorted.

“Yes yes. It just seems she doesn’t like me very much.” Arthur reflected on his bruised ego.

“I’m hemorrhaging here and you’re talking about your wounded pride?” the mage gritted, turning again to lie on her belly, hoping against hope that would defuse the ache.

“Alright, yes, let me see what I can do.” Arthur replied, leaning down to kiss Merlin on the back of her disgruntled head.

* * *

Twenty minutes and one examination by Flidas (for which Arthur was forced to stand behind the changing curtain) later, all was assured to be normal. In fact, the druid took it as a good sign that Merlin’s body had already taken to it’s changes enough to have started and moved to this stage in its now monthly process.

It also meant that in two weeks’ time, Merlin would, in all likelihood, be fertile.

The druid girl left with a huff about more dire matters to attend in the lower town, promising she would have a maid send up the proper skirts and such for such a woman’s time. This left Merlin with Arthur alone again. The pain for Merlin was still unyielding, and Arthur was finding it increasingly difficult to soothe his betrothed.

“And so the dragon Grendel fought the knight Wendel, and forged alliance with the kingdom of-”

“Arthur, please, this is so much worse than silence” Merlin moaned, and Arthur closed the book he had chosen, which to be fair was a rather dry history of a Frankish kingdom.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Noooo”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Noooooooooo”

“Aren’t you the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived”

“Not today”

Merlin leaned over, then, and vomited more bile and some soggy bread bits she had choked down earlier.

“Oh!” Arthur suddenly exclaimed, jumping up from his seat beside Merlin’s bed. He darted around the room, picking up some objects, putting them down, and keeping some in his grasp.

“Now have you got ill?” Merlin asked, peaking her head out from behind a pillow it was muffled in.

“No, I’ve figured a way I can entertain you!” Arthur smiled, holding out a small pewter cup, an herb jar, and a glass divining ball as though they were self-explanatory.

“Are you going to put on a puppet show?” Merlin ventured, admittedly now a bit distracted.

“No, better” Arthur smirked, before throwing the jar up in the air, then the cup, then the ball, starting to juggle them. Merlin actually burst out laughing, surprised that Arthur, tongue worried between his teeth with concentration, had yet to drop any of the objects.

“How did you _ever_ learn this?” Merlin asked, eyes lighting despite her unrelenting aching, propping up on an elbow.

“It helps, ah, to have a way to entertain, ah, the troops!” Arthur embellished this point by throwing the cup behind his back and then catching it in the front without disrupting his rhythm.

Merlin clapped, at that, then gave a weak round of applause when Arthur finished with a bow, sweat actually starting to form along his brow.

“Who knew you were a man of so many talents?” Merlin smiled vaguely as Arthur sat back in his chair, before kissing Merlin gently.

“Gross” Merlin smiled after Arthur pulled back. “I’ve vomited approximately four times today.”

“It takes a lot more than that to stop me” Arthur chuckled.

“Don’t you have a whole kingdom to run?” Merlin asked, settling back down into her pillows.

“It seems like you need me here.” Arthur replied simply.

“I always _want_ you here, but I can really manage. I think I might get some sleep, now that I know that I’m not dying, just female.”

“Okay” Arthur stood up, then tucked Merlin into her blankets before pulling the shade. “I’ll come check on you round supper. Drink some water, or for that matter some ale. Couldn’t really hurt.”

“Since when are you physician?” Merlin quipped, curling in on herself under her covers.

“You said yourself I’m a man of many talents” Arthur replied, stroking Merlin’s hair softly before stepping back, her eyes already fluttering closed, then leaving the room, closing the door gently behind him.

> * * *

A second royal wedding is never quite the same as the first. Arthur was keenly aware of this as his advisors questioned the need for an affair at all, and surely the three days of feasting were not necessary for the king’s second round of nuptials. Surely, they implied, one would not want to draw undue attention, given the circumstances surrounding his first wife. Surly, they nearly outright said, he did not want to direct notice to the, ah, unique circumstances of his second.

Marry, they said, on the new moon. A modest affair. No courtiers, no foreign dignitary invitations. Word could be sent out afterward.

A dejected Arthur, browbeaten and roiling, wandered his way up to Merlin’s chambers, where she was undoubtedly strategizing her never-ending campaign of magic restoration. As he rounded the corner, though, he was surprised momentarily to see Flidas leaving her chambers. The woman saw him, but did not stop her movements, closing the door, and turning, making her way towards him without a bow, without so much as a downward glance.

Arthur stilled, feeling something on the tip of his tongue. Continuing her approach, almost passed him, he felt his chance to say anything at all fading.

“You don’t…” he started, then stalled, unsure if he had the nerve to continue.

“Yes?” She questioned, glancing back over her shoulder, one blue eye training on him, startling against her dark skin. She even looked magic, the essence of her.

“You don’t like me” Arthur panned, sounding to his own ear too much a petulant child.

“No, I don’t.” she still hadn’t turned, not giving him the satisfaction of a full address.

“But. . . I am doing this, I am trying to do this, for your people, for you, for Merlin.” Arthur pleaded.

“A decree and a magic-made wife does not heal centuries of heartache, decades of brutal bloodshed. Surely you understand that I, that we are weary of the son of Uther Pendragon.” She replied, turning towards him a little more, but still positioned to leave at any moment.

“I. . . I know that” Arthur did, on some level, know that there would never be enough, he could never do enough to rectify what had been done to the druids. What his father had done to the druids.

“It’s, it’s that the gesture only goes so far when my people live in hiding, still, petrified.” She replied, softening, maybe, around the edge ever so slightly.

“What made you come?” Arthur questioned, suddenly realizing that Flidas was probably among the most forgiving of her people, if she came willingly into the city.

“Emrys.”

“Oh”

There was a silence of understanding. Then Flidas added –

“You, you are the luckiest man to ever live, to have her love you so completely. She is the most powerful person to ever walk the face of the earth.”

“I know-“

“You do not understand fully. You are a mortal king. She could raze the earth, build a world in worship of her, and instead all she does in stare in adoration at you. She is pure, heart and soul.”

“She always was.”

“You must protect her. She will let herself die for you. You must not let her.”

“I would never” Arthur protested, feeling a rise at the back of his throat.

“Time will tell.” She leveled, impassive, then continued down the hall as though she had not just spoken treasonously down to the King.

* * *

“Merlin. . . what do you want to do about the wedding?” Arthur asked, after settling himself on a stool at Merlin’s worktable.

“Why?” Merlin asked “I didn’t know there were many choices to be made”

“It’s only that. . . some of the lords don’t think we should make it a large affair.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well. . . a second wedding, and they fear that it will make me appear. . .”

“They don’t want you to look weak?” Merlin ventured.

“I suppose.”

Merlin paused, putting down her work for the first time and looking across the table to Arthur.

“Well, I don’t think that downplaying the thing will actually do anything to ingratiate me to my already vocal detractors.”

“Merlin, don’t be silly.”

“Arthur, you should see the looks I get in the street. Many of your countrymen are terrified, disgusted by magic, and think that I am the she-demon who ensnared you, if they’re even kind enough to call me that.” Merlin stated matter-of-factly.

“Who?” Arthur questioned, sounding ready to send heads rolling.

“It doesn’t matter. Half of the kingdom is living in fear of magic, and the other half is living of fear because they use magic, or their family does. Pretending that there isn’t a division, that you’re not making a definitive statement, isn’t going to do anything but make you look weak. Which you’re not.”

Arthur, still reeling from his strange interaction in the hallway with the druid girl, looked with new eyes at the person he was planning to marry. Merlin had been through every horrid abuse a person should have to suffer, yet she sat there, offering all the wisdom she always had. Arthur wished he had always been better at hearing it.

“If you’re making a statement about magic, make one. I mean, me, well. . . I’m a statement on a lot of things, aren’t I?” Merlin continued, staring at him so sharply as to almost reach through him to the wall behind.

“You are.” Arthur said, feeling something he couldn’t quite express. “I, I want to do what’s right.”

“I know.” Merlin intoned, as if to say _I wouldn’t love you if you didn’t_.

“It feels impossible. To rule all these people at once.” Arthur admitted.

“Most things feel impossible until you do them.” Merlin replied, a smirk quirking the corner of her mouth.

“I suppose that’s true.”

“You should know”

Merlin kissed him, softly, then roundly ejected him from her chambers, saying they would have plenty of time to talk later.

At least, Arthur thought, they had a later. Once, that had felt impossible too.

* * *

“Ah!”

Arthur shot up with a shout, leg hitched and arm braced to so spring from his bed.

“Oh!” A yelp answered.

_Crash. Clatter, Clatter._

Walter, the king’s new manservant, stood above a bounty of fruits, cured meats, and a shattered pitcher of ale, some blueberries still rolling lazily away. The boy stared at his feet, started at the mess, then raised his eyes with his head down, looking up through his lashes at the king.

Despite the fact that the boy had been in his employ for the better part of a year, Arthur still wasn’t used to being woken by someone who wasn’t Merlin. This was at least the fifth time he had panicked and jumped to action upon finding a stranger in his room, only to startle the poor noble fourth son, who had been granted the high honor of washing Arthur’s socks.

The boy knelt to clean up the mess, scraping up ale-soaked berries with his bare hands, slopping them back onto the largest of the tray shards, Arthur watching him in mildly horrified embarrassment at his waking outburst.

Upon rising, the boy made a gesture with the mess in his hands, clearly asking _“Do you want to try this again?”._

Arthur just shook his head, and the boy exited without attending to any of the other morning duties.

Well, Arthur supposed, there were definitely worse ways to start off your wedding day.

But not many.

* * *

Merlin bit hard on the tongue beneath her teeth, sustaining a smarting pressure as she stared tensely at the garment hung on the back of her door.

So far, she had dodged and darted from being appointed a maid, or worse a lady-in-waiting. Though, she supposed, they were proffered for the very situation she was now facing.

Her only close female friend, if you could call her a friend, was Flidas, who she sent a glance to over her shoulder. The druid was perched on her windowsill, cross-legged, maudlin skirt bunched in her lap.

“Do you think it’s too. . . much?” Merlin ventured, before both turned back to the dress.

Merlin had asked for something, when it became clear something had to be made, that wasn’t too much. It seems her request was not nearly clear enough.

“How do I, how do you think I get into it?” Merlin approached cautiously, shuffling a few inches as a worried horse would nervous bray, then back away.

“I am still very perplexed by the common clothing of the brits, let alone your, ah, form-al-wear.” Flidas replied evenly, sounding out the last word by syllable, with more thana hint of derision. Granted, Merlin had found her in northern tribe that wore pelts for warmth in winter and nothing during seasonable times.

Well, it seems the day of the maid had come.

* * *

Arthur entered the hall too early, it seemed, as servants hurried to bow, though tittering anxiously, several nearly upending themselves in their haste, despite being perched on ladders and tables, affixing even more decoration to the walls of the throne room.

It was then that Walter burst in after him, shouting –

“Sire, sire, you need to hurry to the stone church-”

“Wha-” Arthur started, before Walter uncharacteristically interrupted –

“You’re being married in the stone church, by the priest, _then_ being handfasted on the mount, _then_ the coronation in this hall-”

Arthur had let Merlin take over the wedding preparations. He privately enjoyed watching his close advisors being taken to task by Merlin while having no room to dissent, the Court Sorcerer technically outranking them all as an advisor. He also enjoyed the fact that he no longer had to worry about it, trusting Merlin implicitly to make the correct decisions diplomatically when it mattered, often better than he could himself. Not that he would ever willingly admit that.

It seems he might have checked out from the preparations a little too much, though.

* * *

Arthur, finally in situ at the altar of the stone church, rhythmically clenched his toes against the bottoms of his ceremonial boots, letting nerves out while keeping his face, hopefully, the vision of perfect placidity.

He had no idea why he was so nervous. Or was he excited? He had felt confident at his last wedding. Perhaps he had even felt a little bored, stuffy. He knew it would go according to plan.

Or rather, he though the knew that the rest of his life would go according to plan.

Perhaps, it was really that marrying Merlin was an adventure in and of itself, and he was nervous about it. And he was excited about it. And he was never adept at identifying his emotions regardless, so perhaps those were just the only two feelings he could name.

There was music, and he could tell that it was building to a crescendo, an opera singer and a number of the most talented bards playing what Arthur identified as an old song, whatever that really meant.

The doors opened, then, Arthur’s veneer of serenity dropping into a genuine expression of amazement.

Merlin, whom he had met as a gangly, perfectly boyish pubescent, appeared as the perfect vision of the pure and beautiful bride. He had no idea about dresses, and no real sense of the minute particulars of ladieswear, but he knew that the dress itself was spectacular. Light blue, shining slightly, an extravagant color, the same shade as her eyes. It even had some swirling of gold trim. It hugged her, accentuating the pleasing shape that had revealed itself over the past weeks.

She seemed to glow, slightly, literally, her skin radiant, holding a bouquet of wildflowers that lighting arrhythmically in some obfuscated pattern, swaying in some non-existent breeze. It seems that even Merlin’s magic couldn’t contain itself.

To think that she had bumbled into his life a peasant, and was now here, in a locked gaze with Arthur, the king, who felt tears pricking his own eyes.

He didn’t remember much, after, of what happened. Only that Merlin smiled, then, a growing sort of thing that starts at the back of the throat and extends radiant joy. That reached her eyes, lighting them with swirls of gold.

* * *

“I think I like the crown” Merlin examined herself in the mirror. She had sent balls of glowing light around the room, which hung suspended, buoyant, effortless, illuminating her inspection.

“Well, I rather hope you would.” Arthur, behind her, smiled from his post at the bottom of his bed, leaning his weight but not quite sitting, quite content to watch Merlin watch herself in the full-length mirror he had brought in earlier that week.

“You know what I mean, I think it, you know, suits me” Merlin lifted her chin a little, posing, then caught Arthur’s eye in the mirror before breaking out into a smile.

The momentousness of the day was still rolling off them both, exhausted as they were, not quite free from the adrenaline excess.

“It certainly does” Arthur bit his lip, grabbing at his bottom lip, holding it suggestively between his teeth, cocking his head to the side, a dare.

At that moment, though, there came a shuffling from behind the door, and they both tensed, the mood dropping considerably.

One part of the wedding negotiations Arthur had, unfortunately, been very much a part of were that of the nocturnal portion.

Much to his horror, one of his lords, in front of Merlin, said that they had to have a bed-minder. Arthur had spluttered, indignant, as another voiced his agreement, then a third.

“And why should we have to do that?” He had questioned, Merlin, though keeping her cool, pinking at her cheeks. “There hasn’t been one at any of the marriages I remember in my entire lifetime, why suggest bringing the practice up now?” he dared hotly.

After a very tense afternoon, they had been forced to relent, Merlin remaining unusually tight-lipped while Arthur reigned indignant. They had at the very least negotiated the cleric outside the door, and they could hear the old man shuffling, presumably getting comfortable for his night watch. There were also, to Arthur’s intense mortification, minders posted to watch the windows of his chamber.

“Arthur don’t get worked up, not now. You can go roll some heads tomorrow.” Merlin intoned, turning and stepping closer to the bed. Apparently, Arthur’s momentary reverie had been evident, as had its cause.

“You’re right, of course, I just – what do they think will go on in here? And it seems barbaric, really, expecting that. What are they hoping for anyway? Either you, you know, and there’s not, or there is, but, do they really think you couldn’t magic it there anyway?” Arthur had turned a shade of crimson, starting from anger but ending in embarrassment.

“Trust me, I understand, I have at least twice the reason you do to be indignant” Merlin sighed with a smile, stepping closer again. “Let’s just try to forget them. Or hey, maybe we can put on a real show.”

At that Merlin unfastened her new royal cloak, letting it drop to the floor behind her with a solid _thump_. Arthur’s attention now focused rather entirely in a way that had nothing to do with his head.

“I mean, it’s not like we have to do anything we weren’t going to do anyway. . .”

She snapped her fingers, and the lacing down the back of her dress undid itself, causing it to fall off her shoulders, collecting suggestively below her clavicle. She noted, privately, that the thing was much easier to get _off_ than it was to get _on_.

“Do you think you could help me get out of this?” She asked, faux innocent, Arthur springing immediately to attention.

“I mean, I’m no manservant” he chuckled softly, having positioned himself behind her back “let alone a chambermaid. But, I’ll do my best.”

He divested her of her gown slowly, kissing her skin as he exposed it, down her shoulders and arms, biting softly in places, before finally loosening it so to fall, softly, onto the cloak below it.

“M’lady” he smirked, walking around to hold out his arm, the perfect gentleman, allowing her to step out of her fallen vestments. He watched closely as a foot, then two, carefully extracted themselves, clad in long stockings and soft velvet shoes. Before Arthur could help himself, he asked –

“Are your feet. . .”

“I mean, once I put the work into figuring out the really tricky bits, I thought I might as well make some wholesale cosmetic adjustments.” Merlin teased, before sitting herself on the edge of the bed, clearly gesturing for Arthur to remove her footwear. “And really” she continued, waggling her toes“this was necessary. You saw me dancing tonight – I didn’t trip over my feet once.”

Arthur freed the first undeniably feminine foot, then the second. Merlin went to move again, but Arthur stilled her, grasping her right foot solidly. He made eye contact with her, holding her gaze as he slowly raised her foot to bite at the top of her toe, then drew it into his mouth, suckling lightly.

“Ah!” her breath hitched. “They’re still sensitive, you know.”

“Oh, I know” Arthur popped off, leveling his gaze.

“You’re such a cabbage head, and a pervert as well, apparently.” Merlin smirked. “Maybe I’ll recount all the sordid details to our minder in the morning. Thinking about it, do you reckon he would prefer to know now? Get minute by minute updates?”

Merlin smiled, cheekily, making to get up. Before she could, though, Arthur swooped, grabbing her under her knees and at the small of her back, then not-quite-tossing but not-quite-placing her on the bed. She landed with a small _thump_ , her eyes looking up at him with undeniable interest.

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary” Arthur pounced, landing one knee on the bed near Merlin’s hip, the swinging the other over to straddle her, caging her in. “Are ladies of the court supposed to be so sordid?”

“Hmm” Merlin hummed, full of false-concentration, before suddenly flipping Arthur in a show of magical force, then shuffling her way down his body, coming face to face with his crotch, then glancing back up “But I have a feeling” she undid his breeches, aided by her magic, slipping them down his thighs “that you don’t want a lady who follows all the court rules.”

When Merlin and her perfect, unchanged, sinful mouth swallowed him to the root, Arthur nearly wept. He leaned up on one elbow, and Merlin looked up at him through her lashes, pulling off to lave the head then sinking back down. Arthur reached a hand down, stroking the back of her neck, tucking aside some hair that had fallen in her face.

Arthur noticed, these last few weeks, that his general need to protect Merlin had sharpened into what felt like a biological imperative to care, even coddle. He had never felt that way about anyone before, not even Gwen. More than anything, he wanted Merlin to be safe, or rather, loved.

At this moment, though, that urge was paired with a much baser urge, and it wasn’t as though, Merlin couldn’t protect herself. In fact, Merlin was the most powerful being on the planet, in all likelihood the most powerful person who would ever exist. And she was looking up at him through lowered lashes while rhythmically laving his cock, taking it down to the root, then pulling off.

As much as he didn’t want to, Arthur had to stop Merlin, pulling at her shoulder. She stopped with a wet _pop_ , then looked up at him again, turning his face towards him.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to finish” Arthur nearly panted, a keening sound playing near the back of his throat.

“Oh, I know” grinned Merlin, somewhat hoarsely, before she dove back down, pinning Arthur’s hand’s to his sides for good measure.

All Arthur could do was watch Merlin slowly take his cock down to the root into her mouth, into her throat, then suck. It felt heavenly. He even liked, he’ll admitted to himself, his sudden lack of control.

It only took a few bobs of her head for Arthur to cum down Merlin’s throat. She swallowed it all without coming off the head, laving him through his orgasm. He cried out despite himself, then panted his way through.

She looked wrecked. He felt wrecked. He blinked at her a couple times, then she giggled.

“What’s so funny down there?” Arthur asked, finally able to move his arms.

“Nothing. You. Everything.” Merlin replied, smiling, cryptic, very Merlin.

“I think” Arthur mused, petting Merlin’s hair, then bopping her on the nose “That you deserve a punishment for such impudence”

“Even if that impudence caused you what sounded like a very impressive orgasm?” Merlin questioned.

“Oh yes.” Arthur nodded, sitting up, then lifting Merlin, depositing her so she straddled his hips. Even if she had magic, he had pure strength. “You’re not allowed to cum tonight, unless it’s on my cock.”

She whimpered a little, then, as he ground her hips down into his, raising his already reawakened member to brush lightly against her still-clothed entrance. He brought his hand down, too, to rub lightly against it.

“Have you been able to cum on your own?” He asked, full of false innocence.

Merlin blushed, then shook her head no, rolling her hips in attempts to get more pressure from Arthur’s hand.

“Oh dear” he murmured, nuzzling against her neck, biting lightly at her pulse point. “Let’s take a look”

He pulled up Merlin’s slip, revealing her bare chest. Before moving onto her small clothes, he had to take a moment to pinch and lave at her nipples, which were still supremely sensitive, constantly engorged. His two tanned hands held her in place by her waist, with her keening, nearly screaming as Arthur teased right to the line of downright pain.

Popping off wetly, he flipped Merlin onto her back again suddenly, causing her to squeak indignantly. Arthur pulled his own shirt off, then pulled his trousers and drawers all the way down, leaving only one item between them.

“What have you tried?” He whispered against her collarbone, toying with the closure on her smallclothes, pulling at the string. “Have you touched here?” Arthur continued, sneaking his hand beneath her unfastened smalls, pressing two fingers against her clit.

“Mm” Merlin hummed in assent; eyes blown wide.

“What about in here?” Arthur asked, moving his hand down, pressing one finger against her opening. She shook her head. “Why not?”

“Hurts” she whispered.

“Well, let’s see what we can do.” Arthur leveled, stroking around her entrance. “You’re very wet, you know.”

“I can feel.” Merlin replied, coming back to herself a little. Arthur could feel a tension entering her posture.

“Relax, let me. . .” Arthur trailed off, working his way down her body. He licked gently at her, and then attempted to push his right forefinger in –

Merlin tensed, sucking in air through her teeth.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur questioned

“It just, Jesus, don’t look at me.” Merlin flushed, the tone shifting from enraptured to embarrassed. “It still. . . hurts, I guess. Burns, putting anything _in_.”

“Oh, do you want. . .” Arthur didn’t quite know how to finish.

“No, just, keep going.”

“I don’t want-”

“Keep going.” Merlin leveled, commanding.

Arthur breathed deeply, taking a moment to just lave at her, soft, loving. He worked her over outside, holding his hand against where her pelvis crested, licking beneath, licking in, ever so slightly. She relaxed, and started to grind against him again.

Deciding it was now or never, Arthur attempted to reinsert his finger. Merlin stilled, but said nothing, so Arthur continued, working it in and out slowly. She gripped even his finger like a vice, and he started to comprehend the imminent problem.

He carried on though, her gaze boring down at him, insisting he continue. Arthur kissed the inside of her thighs lightly, crooking his finger up in attempts to open her more, maybe even bring her pleasure, if he could.

After several long minutes of Arthur attempting to make headway with one finger, then barely being able to fit the tips of two, let alone work them in, Merlin made a soft noise, causing Arthur to still.

“Do you want to stop?” Asked Arthur, more than willing, despite his persistent erection.

“No” Merlin replied resolutely, the timber of her voice even higher than usual. “I think, I guess, I would rather just do it, I suppose.”

“I don’t want you to hurt.” Arthur replied, stroking up and down her spread legs. “You are a fair maiden, now, apparently in every sense of the word.”

“Oh shut up you prat.” She quipped “I think, though, it is better done without so much preamble.”

“I think you’re probably right. . . you just, you must tell me to stop, if I have to stop.” Arthur leveled his gaze at her seriously.

Merlin nodded, then wormed her way down further, so as to be completely on her back, spreading her legs in clear invitation that Arthur should be parallel. He went more than willingly, bringing his face up to her neck kissing her there.

“You’re sure?” He questioned, palming his erection, then bringing it to the crest of Merlin’s pelvis, sliding it down through the warmth.

“Absolutely” She whispered back.

With that, he guided himself into her warm center, feeling the tip penetrate, feeling the heavenly heat.

Merlin groaned through gritted teeth. Never in her life had she felt so vulnerable, so open, such an intense, strange, burning, unyielding feeling, a pain, the fear, in the corner of her mind, that she was actually going to be split open.

Then, he snapped his hips, entering her, almost all the way.

She left her body, for just a second, it felt like, or it could have been years, really. When she came back to herself, she realized tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes, and that she had cried out, but not registered herself as the origin of the noise.

The pain felt absolutely impossible. She had been stabbed, poisoned, burned, and beaten in her unending quest to keep Arthur from harm, but no pain had felt this insistent, so deep. She felt herself squirm, wriggling around the burning intrusion before breathing deeply a few times, willing herself to feel her own lungs.

Arthur was stroking her hair, gently nosing at her cheek.

“Hi, love” he murmured, kissing her cheek lightly.

She whimpered in response, face crumpled, but brought her hand up to his neck, taking comfort in his presence, even if it was also the source of this pain.

“Do you want me to move?” he murmured. “I’m not, ah, all the way in.”

She nodded, digging her nails into his back. She felt somehow that her hand was the only part of her body that could actually move, and she wanted to stake her entire claim on the king.

Arthur stilled, then started rocking, slowly, in and out, until he was buried all the way inside. It ruined her. She could feel him inside, more intensely than she ever had before, she could feel the tip of him pressing something deep within her, causing her to gasp. This was an entirely new pain, but a pain that edged on something else, too.

He moved his hips, then, holding her, kissing her cheek, never really leaving her heat, rocking in and out, pressing inside her, all the way to her womb. Arthur had never felt anything like this. Anything like how, seemingly, she fit him perfectly, made for him. It overwhelmed him.

Merlin felt all parts of her body separately, but then together. She felt Arthur all the way inside her, too big, too much, on top of her, around her. She felt him in her most intimately constructed place, places meant only for him, and this thought sent her scrabbling at his back, wrapping her legs around him.

“I love you” he whispered, then repeated it, over and over again.

Merlin, still unaccustomed to all the sensations she felt now, sensed something changing, transforming, something moving with the friction and the pain. It burned so much, where he was pressing into her, where he was hitting something perfectly inside her, that it turned a corner to something else entirely.

It was pain, and it wasn’t. It was pleasure, and it wasn’t. Of all the magic she had ever performed in her lifetime, this was the most pure _sensation_ she had ever felt.

She screamed, orgasm hitting her in wave after wave, Arthur having never pulled out more than an inch, all of him buried inside her, pressing insistently over and over again.

He mouthed at her neck, and kissed her, prolonging her pleasure as long as he could, then finally allowing himself to cum, thrusting in completely, pressing his spend directly into her womb.

They stayed in that position for a long moment, then two. He stroked her hair again, then gently went to pull out, erection waning.

“Fuck” groaned Merlin as he did, breathing heavily.

“How are you?” Arthur asked insistently, stroking up and down her leg.

“Fucked” she breathed in response, blinking up at the ceiling. It still burned, and the leaving somehow hurt even more, different. She could feel the ghost of the sensation at the place he had touched deep inside, bringing her for the first time to awareness of it's presence. It stung, and it hurt, but it hurt pleasantly. The walls of her burned, much more intensely than the other sensations, but it felt worth it. Or rather, she never actually questioned whether it was worth it or not, to her it seeming there was not a question.

“Can you send some more light up? I want to take a look.” Arthur asked, unsure, stroking her leg with the tips of his fingers.

She did, sending some balls of light up without moving a muscle, willing them into existence without an active thought.

Arthur poked and prodded some, Merlin hissing at his touch to her sensitive nether regions. After a moment she moved, pulling her knees up to her chest and grasping at them, rocking slightly back and forth. Arthur chuckled. 

“What’s so funny down there?” she asked, Arthur relieved to see a sign of active life returning.

“It looks like we have some positive evidence to bring to the bed minder after all.” Arthur replied.

Merlin craned her head to glance down, seeing splotches of blood on the once pristine sheets.

“Congratulations on your thorough annihilation of my hymen, sir knight.” She laughed, coming back to herself, moving one hand momentarily from her knee to pull him back down by his neck.

“What are you doing, you beetle?” He asked, laying next to her as she continued her languid rocking.

“Trying to increase the chances of conception, you dolt, or did you rather forget the point.” She blinked at him, then stuck out her tongue.

“Don’t you have a spell for that?”

“Oh, several, already used them all, I promise.” She grinned. “Never knock the good old fashioned wives tricks though.”

Arthur left her to her little motions, wrapping around her best he could, before finally pulling her down from her rocking, tucking her into his chest, cocooning her. They laid still, for a moment, Merlin vanishing the lights, leaving them in darkness.

“Thank you.” Arthur announced into the room.

“For what?” Merlin whispered.

“For being you, despite me” Arthur murmured, in a moment of peculiar reflection.

“I’m as much who I am because of you as despite you.” Merlin replied, serious, but suddenly sleepy.

“Well, I’m definitely who I am, the good parts at least, because of you.” Arthur whispered this like a secret. “I hope they take after you” he lowered his voice further, pressed his hand against Merlin’s lower abdomen possessive, loving.

“And I hope they’re just like you.” Merlin whispered, laying her hand over his, yawning. “For you, and from you. Everything I am for you.” She said without ceremony, as though it were a common fact.

And Arthur knew this, of course, but the gravity of it hit him differently, freshly, in that moment. Before he could reply, though, Merlin was sound asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, here's this. sorry this chapter took me so long to upload, it kind of careened off on it's own. i'm just, like, a sucker for a really good theme, man. also porn.


	6. Blessed is the Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur (but mostly Merlin) start the first family of a unified Albion.

Arthur, finding himself often unable to sleep, had started frequenting the throne room in the early morning hours. He passed the guards with a slight nod of his head, barefootedly padding through the halls of the castle over which he was the sovereign lord.

Was this, this place, this crown, these people, really entrusted to him by God? He wondered this, alone, facing the wooden throne on which, in a few short hours, he would have to preside over court. Every day, people had the most pivotal moments of their lives in his presence. He often couldn’t remember at the end of the day whom he had seen at the beginning, though undoubtedly they were, more often than not, already running back to their villages, overjoyed, furious, spellbound, that they had met the king, and he had rendered his holy judgement.

Not only did he not feel equipped to hold such a position, but now, he was facing the prospect of passing it to another, as it had been passed to him, slowly, then all at once.

So he sat on the cold stone floor at the far end of the throne room near the massive vaulted doors, just as the light was starting to purple the sky along the horizon outside. Just as he sat this morning, he had sat every morning for the better part of the fortnight. His body shivered, and he felt glad for the discomfort, his perversely reassuring companion.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat, eyes fixed ahead, rubbing dirt into the pads of his fingertips into the stone floor, reaching an almost meditative state of contemplation.

“There you are.” A soft voice echoed through the empty throne room.

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin, on his feet in a moment. He spun around to face the far entrance to the chamber, to seek the source of the unexpected greeting.

He softened, immediately, seeing it was Merlin, clad in a white nightgown, now chest-length hair wild around her face. A guilt that he had left their chambers at all had sat in his gut for all the days he roamed, but now he felt it surge uncomfortably through his chest. At the same time, though, he had feared his restlessness would stir his wife.

The king rushed to her where she stood at the far end of the hall, relieved to see that there was a look of bemusement and not upset on her delicate face.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He nearly whispered, feeling distinctly that the hall when empty was a sacred space that could not be disturbed with full-tone voice.

“You didn’t.” She smirked, clearly intoning that the tendered explanation was lacking.

“I just. . .” Arthur was about to vocalize, or at least attempt, all the reasons that brought him on his early hour meanderings, but his gaze fell from his wife’s face to the swell of her lower belly, more visible by the day, seemingly. Almost unconsciously, he brought his hand to it, rubbing his thumb softly.

“Do you want to go to bed?” he asked instead, softly, smiling, almost relieved in his realization that now was not the time to put his complicated musings to words.

“Very much” She paused, testing her waters, then taking Arthur’s hand from her belly and grasping it firmly. “It’s cold without you. If you wander away too many more mornings, I’ll have to employ a bed warmer.” She teased.

“You wouldn’t.” He scoffed, allowing himself to be led from the throne room from the small far door, realizing then how comforted he was by Merlin’s presence, as he always was.

“Come to bed, you absolute cabbage head. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“This _is_ morning” He smiled, happy to be distracted. Happy that they, in their private moments, could be Merlin and Arthur even now.

“Proper morning. You can’t just introduce me to the royal lifestyle of waking after dawn then rouse me before the cock crows.” Merlin retorted.

“I am sorry I disturbed you, I wouldn’t have gone if I knew you noticed. You need your rest.” Arthur felt like a fish out of water, still trying to toe the line between coddling and claustrophobic.

“Oh, _now_ it’s Merlin needs rest. Years I muck your stables and carry your water buckets and inhale your soot, and now I can’t be disturbed but for a moment per my _delicate female constitution_.” she chuckled, punching his upper arm hard, other hand resting, as it often did, on her swelling stomach.

“Okay, now that’s just unfair, I can’t fight back.” He smiled as they mounted the stairs, eyes of the guards undoubtedly trailing them.

“Yes, that’s why I’ve got to get in as many as I can now. You’re in for at least five more months of unfettered horseplay. All the dirty moves, too.” She stuck out her little pink tongue at him.

He kissed her, then, overwhelmed for the first time in a long time by the feeling that Merlin was still Merlin, and always would be. He was lucky. He knew he was so, incredibly lucky, and through the worry it was easy to lose the fact that he was happy. That he was allowed to be happy.

He poured that into the kiss before pulling back, smug to see her wide eyes and surprised ‘o’ of a mouth looking up at him.

“Let’s go to bed” he whispered.

She nodded, vigorously.

* * *

Merlin climbed into bed, long limbs more and more graceful by the day, artful in the cold early morning light. To Arthur, it seemed that somehow, Merlin was _meant_ to be pregnant. It suited her face, and her skin radiated a kind of warm glow. He ate it up. For as much as he worried about the future, there were moments he saw clear the beauty of his present.

Right now, that present was splayed out on the bed, perfectly curved lines. Merlin cupped her breast through her shift, pleading at him with false-innocent eyes.

“They’re sore” she breathed.

“Oh dear” Arthur tutted, pulling his shift quickly over his head and climbing into bed, curling himself next to Merlin. “Want me to take a look?”

Merlin smirked and nodded, causing Arthur to ghost his hand down over her shoulder, then down, tracing the outline of the small, pert breast that sat so naturally on Merlin’s chest.

“Does it hurt here?” Arthur traced around the outside of nipple, visible through Merlin’s light nightgown.

“Mmm-hmm” she replied solemnly, nodding her head.

“Let’s get this off so I can perform a proper examination.” Arthur pulled up on the white linen, bunching it in his fist on one side, than the other, shimmying it up Merlin’s body, revealing her long, pale legs, her taut, rounding stomach, then finally her small, white breasts, nipples having changed from a dusky pink to a bright, reddish rose over the last months.

Pulling it over her head, he tossed it playfully aside, then kissed her cheek.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous” he breathed against the skin of her neck.

“I’ve been told” She chirped, causing Arthur to reach a hand down and gently pinch one of her nipples, causing her to yelp.

He moved quickly to straddle her legs then, face level with her chest. Sparing a quick glance upward, he then dove down, taking one of the swollen breasts in his mouth.

Much to Arthur’s delight and Merlin’s consternation, even though she was only four months along, she had started to leak small amounts of breast milk as her ducts opened. Arthur found this both endlessly erotic and a key point to tease her over.

He tasted some of it then, sweet on his tongue. Merlin was squirming under him, and he could hear her panting. Arthur kept up his ministrations up to the line of pain, then pulled off, staring her in the face.

“All seems in order to me.” He smiled.

“You absolute prat” she panted, eyes blown wide, flush high on her cheeks.

“And how are you feeling down here?” he asked, ghosting a hand further down, resting his hand on the dome above her pelvis, fingertips teasing her entrance.

“Like a gigantic prat knocked me up.” She leveled.

“Hmm. Well, we should probably find him.” He intoned, full of mock-seriousness, face perfectly placid but for the spark in his eyes.

Merlin let out a roar and magically launched a pillow at his head with a nod, then another from the opposite side.

Arthur retaliated by grabbing Merlin as roughly as he dared, covering her with his body, rolling her on top of him, then over again on his massive bed, so she was under him.

She was laughing then, a higher version of the throaty laugh that Arthur had always loved, which now pelled like church bells.

He pressed his arousal against her hip grinding it there once, twice.

“Hello. . .” breathed Merlin as her laughter died down, bringing her hand to rest on the back of Arthur’s neck, the other stroking up and down his bare torso.

He lifted off her slightly, and wordlessly brought his hand down to palm at the wetness between her legs, feeling dipping the tips of his fingers in.

“You love this, don’t you?” he whispered, feeling how she responded to his touch.

“Would you prefer that I didn’t?” she moaned in response, starting to squirm beneath him.

“Oh no, I just like to torture you.” Arthur smiled confidently, grasping his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Well at least I know that you’re not an imposter. . . they would be far kinder.” Merlin replied, Arthur still teasing her with his fingers.

“Is that so?” Arthur questioned, suddenly lining himself up, sparing only a moment to rub his arousal through the warm wetness around her opening before spearing into her.

They had discovered over the past months that Merlin had more than a bit of a masochistic streak, often begging for Arthur to go _deeper_ , even as her body struggled to accommodate the intrusion.

“Ahh!” Merlin gasped throatily, squirming at the unique pleasure of the pain that came with Arthur piercing her in one movement, hitting right up against the opening of her ripe womb.

Arthur loved watching Merlin writhe on his cock, and he let it continue for a moment, two, before pulling back slightly and thrusting, tapping up against her womb once, twice, starting a rhythm designed to take her apart.

“You’re so beautiful, love, so beautiful ripe with my _heir_.” He brought one hand down to lay it against the swell of Merlin’s stomach as he continued to thrust, feeling it, like the rest of her, respond to his ministrations.

He shifted his angle, then, to hit against all the spots he had learned that she loved, rubbing against her sensitive clit, the spot just inside he often teased with his fingers, and then the deepest parts of her, her relishing in the unique, sparking pleasure-pain.

She started breathing heavily, tensing around him, as he stroked in once, twice, three times, before she was screaming her release.

He followed shortly after, often having to put conscious effort into holding back, so aroused by Merlin’s beauty and sexual voracity. He thrust in all the way, some deep instinct still causing him to want his seed as far in her as possible.

Merlin, whose legs had been pulled up to her sides, brought them to wrap around Arthur then, forcing him to stay in for as long as possible.

“Hi” she whispered in his ear, him being careful to suspend his weight above her, not put too much on her or the life blooming in her abdomen.

“Hi yourself” he whispered back, content to grow soft inside her.

“Good morning” she smiled, biting gently at his earlobe.

“Oh, so now it’s morning” Arthur quipped, wiggling in her slightly, causing her to giggle.

“Yes, but only because _I_ get to go back to sleep.” She pursed her lips, self-satisfied.

“Lazy sod.” Arthur sighed fondly as he finally slipped out, rolling onto his side, and immediately curling himself around her.

“I am expending great amounts of energy growing your child.” She growled lightly, smiling, curling her back into Arthur’s front, safe, happy, warm.

Arthur came to rest his hand against her abdomen, and was surprised to find himself drifting back to sleep, contently nosing at the back of Merlin’s neck, his wife happily asleep in his embrace.

* * *

The eight months they were sure of Merlin’s pregnancy flew by in a moment while grinding by glacially. The first weeks were rough on her, leading both her and Arthur to worry, privately, separately, if her body could survive it.

But she got stronger, and by her fourth month she was glowing, morning sickness faded, eating, tired, but not tremendously fatigued the way she had been.

She even grew to enjoy being pregnant. Her body changing had become a strangely comforting part of her existence, and this was just another metamorphosis. The way she had inspected her body for so long, eye pinpointing every imperfection, became hours spent in simple observation, standing in front of her mirror, caressing her stomach, her breasts, running down over her ass and thighs.

She saw the things her body could do. She felt proud of the things that she made her body do.

For the first time, she felt a glimpse of what everyone else saw when they looked at her. The most powerful sorcerer in the world actually stared back when she glanced herself in the mirror, for a second or two.

“I think he’s playfighting in there” she announced into the air, slightly amused, glancing up at Arthur. “At least it feels like he’s fighting dragons, vambrace repurposed from my bladder and spleen, colon for the mace chain.”

Arthur looked up from his worktable, eyes falling on his wife, who was splayed in bed, book cast aside, tenderly pawing at her eight-month stomach.

“What makes you so sure it’s a boy?” Arthur mused, leaning back, happy to give his eyes the chance to look at something that wasn’t reports.

“He annoys me all day, like you, keeps me up all night, like you, and I love him to pieces, like you – really there are too many similarities for me to draw any other conclusion.” Merlin smirked, leveling her gaze at Arthur.

“You think there’s a little King in there?” Arthur asked, pushing his chair back, gesturing to her stomach as he made to cross the room.

“Hmm, yes. King, Dragonlord, Sorcerer. . . lot of titles for someone the size of an overlarge potato.” Merlin smiled, rubbing the mound thoughtfully.

“Do you think he’ll have magic?” Arthur asked, lowly, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Yes” Merlin replied hesitantly, keeping the word in her mouth and trying to let it out at the same time. She paused for a moment, but then continued “I can already feel it, sometimes. At least I think I can.”

“Oh”

“Is that. . . do you mind?” Merlin questioned, putting both hands on her belly, a subconscious urge to protect.

“Not even a little.” Arthur hurried to say. “I, your magic is what made all of this possible. If our child, if all our children have that gift, I should be glad.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Arthur leveled, reaching out to caress Merlin’s stomach. “I worry about being a good father to him. I don’t want to let, I don’t want anything my father passed on to me, did to me, change them.”

“Arthur” Merlin laid her hand over his “You will be a phenomenal father. I wouldn’t have let you put me through this if I didn’t know that, heart, soul, and _magic_.” She added, just to be cheeky.

“Is it too terrible?” Arthur asked, laying himself down next to Merlin, nosing at her neck.

“Yes. Absolutely horrendous.” Merlin replied, smiling. “Never again.”

“There haven’t been any good parts? Nothing at all?” Arthur tried to hold a firm, questioning look, but failed at the last moment, his eyes and twitch of his lip revealing his levity.

“Nope, can’t think of any.” Merlin smiled as Arthur moved his hand further down ghosting over Merlin’s lightly-clothed sex with his hand. She was often warm, though it was now a cool late November, and had taken to wearing only the lightest of near-sheer linens. “Oh” she started involuntarily, just a moment later, as Arthur pressed just the slightest bit against her.

“Hmm, yes, now that you mention it, I can’t think of any either.” Arthur replied, moving to stroke the crux of Merlin’s inner thighs, then moving back to her center.

He nudged at her shoulder with his head, gently maneuvering Merlin onto her side. Though her body had certainly changed to accommodate her swelling stomach, she still retained elements of her essentially bony frame. Arthur could still trace the pronouncement of her collar bones, and pick out the knobs of her spine. He worried about her, even now.

“Are you eating enough?” he continued, stroking down her side, feeling her ribs, then caressing her stomach.

“Well, I feel like I’m carrying a planet about, so I would certainly think I am.” Merlin retorted, wiggling back into Arthur, rubbing her rear up against the hardness of his crotch.

“Yes, it seems that not even the greatest sorcerer in the world could combat your wee bony bum.” He nipped at her neck, undulating back against her.

“Just be grateful I don’t take this bum, bony or not, to another chamber for the duration.” Merlin breathed in response.

Arthur lifted her chamise then, inching it up to rest above the swell of her stomach. He stroked her leg, then came to rest his hand on her hip, where he could just make out the once prominent hip bone. Small victories, he supposed.

With that, he pulled her hip back towards him, encouraging her undulations against him.

“You’re sure Gaius. . . you’re really sure we can carry on?” Arthur asked, pausing before taking himself out of his trousers.

“Yes, I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

“I mean, it’s just that it seems that much of it is working with the same equipment. I don’t want to, I don’t know, disturb things. . .”

“You’re such a dolt. I’ll have you know the druids have relations all the way through pregnancy and they have a much better track record than us high-minded brits.” Merlin retorted, punctuating her point by pushing herself against Arthur's hardness.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Arthur freed himself from his trousers, then, and then finally brought his hand down, snaking his wrist between Merlin’s propped-open thighs, rubbing his fingers over the wetness there. “You’re eager.” He smirked.

“Yes, wel- ah!” Arthur aligned himself and plunged in without preamble, cutting Merlin off in the middle of her undoubtedly snarky reply. He grasped Merlin’s hips, angling her back against him, allowing him full access to the wonderful warmth between her legs.

“You feel so tight, love” he breathed in her ear, pushing himself all the way inside her.

Merlin was breathing heavily, but finally panted “well. . thank god for small miracles then. . “

“Mm, don’t sell yourself short.” Arthur retorted. At that, he started thrusting in earnest, shallow movements, pulling out just enough to push back in again, keeping Merlin full. She squirmed, wrapping her leg back around his, and reaching her hand back to rest in his hair.

“You feel. . so good inside me. . .” she panted, allowing herself to get lost in her momentary distraction from her almost constant worry.

“Mm, I’ve been told I am quite skilled.” Arthur found the angle then, Merlin giving a shout as he pressed again and again on the spot inside her that drove her wild.

“Oh god, oh god” Merlin started chanting little reprieves, Arthur absorbed in his wife, so full with his child, so full with him, so lost in their lovemaking.

“There you are love, there you are.” He breathed into her ear, continuing his assault. Once, twice more, and then Merlin starting keening her release. Arthur knew, then, to press all the way in, grinding inside of her to prolong her pleasure as long as possible.

As she was coming down, Arthur let himself go, thrusting his release deep inside. They stilled, breathing for a moment, two.

“You’re getting absolutely _needy_ ” Arthur huffed, still inside his wife, rubbing her distended belly.

“I’m allowed to want whatever I want. I’ve earned it.” Merlin smiled, snuggling back against him.

“Well, yes, I daresay you have” Arthur conceded, then, kissing the back of Merlin’s neck.

“Hmm, yes, finally the adoration I’ve deserved.” Merlin preened quietly. “Sleep time.” She then declared.

“Merlin, I’m still dres-“

“Sleep time.” Merlin punctuated this decree by muffling the lights and disappearing Arthur’s clothes, leaving just the two of them, Arthur slowly softening inside.

They shuffled in the darkness, Arthur allowing himself to be bullied into slumber.

Sensing his acquiescing, Merlin breathed “I just like the time we’re together. When we’re us, you know?”

“I know, love.” Arthur replied, wrapping himself tightly around his wife, but letting himself slip out of her.

“It will all be different soon.” Merlin declared sleepily.

“Not everything. And it will be worth it.”

“Always.” Merlin assented, then continued “Just different.”

“Yeah.” Arthur breathed calmly, letting sleep overtake him, vaguely wondering if Merlin cast a spell on him, or if he was simply for a moment content enough to let himself rest.

Either way, he slumbered, and if he had dreams, they did not plague him come morning.

* * *

This calm certainly did not pervade to the days leading up to his child’s arrival. In fact, it fell heavily on Merlin to be the voice of sane rationality (as it often did). 

“When will we know when it’s time?” Arthur questioned frantically, pacing back and forth in Gaius’s chambers, the physician and the midwife both leaning over in examination of a prostrate and unamused Merlin.

“You can’t be in here if you keep panicking!” Merlin burst, shouting over the two heads prodding between her legs, the late days of pregnancy lowering her normally prevailing social inhibitions.

“I’m not panicking!” Arthur replied. “I just want to know what’s happening!”

“Sire-“ The physician turned, beginning what was undoubtedly a world-class placation-

“She’s pregnant! You’ll know when it’s time when she goes into labor.” Flidas intoned without an ounce of deference, without even turning to the king.

A moment of silence hung in the air, before she tapped Merlin’s knee, a signal the sorcerer could assume a slightly more dignified position, then finally turned. “What did you think? Because she’s _Emrys_ she’ll start glowing? Lightning storms?” Flidas pronounced Merlin’s prophetic name in her native tongue, transition from the course Saxon language to the fluid druidic intonation and back again.

It was then, in yet another uncomfortable silence, that Flidas read the absolutely befuddled face of Arthur, turned to a withering Gaius, and then to incredulous Merlin. Moments passed before she realized that some key piece of general knowledge was clearly missing. She turned to Merlin.

“He does know how babies are born, doesn’t he?” She asked, causing Merlin to turn a mortified shade of red.

“I do!” Arthur interjected petulantly.

“It is not common-“ Gaius started, before pausing, glancing between an uncomfortably shifting Merlin and an franticly embarrassed Arthur “Womanly matters are not common education for men, especially among the nobility.”

“I mean I know, I mean, I know it hurts.” Arthur stated lamely, tripping over himself.

At this Merlin audibly groaned, Gaius picked up the nearest phial with keen interest, and Flidas felt her brain struggling to process the biological ignorance of the leader of the unified kingdom of great Britain.

“So you want to know. . . when we know. . . she’s going to give birth?” Flidas stated slowly, shifting to address a dim-witted child.

“I mean, it seems as though, actually, you have this covered, and of course Merlin, knows, so. . .”

“Oh no, if you would like to learn, I’ll never deny a student. Gaius, where did those tomes end up? They seem a fair starting point, and have some excellent illustrations.”

A painful half an hour later, Arthur learned more than he ever wanted to know about exactly how they knew the baby would be ready to make an appearance, and even more about all the ways in which this could go wrong. One thing made very clear was that, despite her less than gentle bedside manner, Flidas _was_ an expert.

To his credit, Arthur swallowed his pride, sensing a fight that was lost long before it began. Merlin sensed this, and actually found herself impressed at Arthur’s sheepish nodding, in contrast to the bull-headed stubbornness she had run into those years ago. She found herself (stupidly) still in love with the well-meaning idiot who had accidently walked into a conversation about the benefits and risks of episiodomies (something Merlin herself was stubbornly not considering).

Merlin found herself smiling at Arthur over the gesticulating midwife’s shoulder, and she still felt her heart melt a little when Arthur, red faced, smiled back.

* * *

Two days later, it was time. Merlin, in her usual fashion, was working until the last possible moment.

Finding the route to her own chambers overly tiresome and complicated by stairs, Merlin had taken over Arthur’s chambers rather completely, having filled them with her own research materials. This led to many days that Arthur, relegated to a small corner desk, watched Merlin spread papers, tomes, and strange, glowing orbs and phials across what was once his domain. He only pretended to feel annoyed. Mostly.

It was a day like this, Merlin, leaning over her own stomach to work at the table, gasped.

“Merlin, what’s wrong?” Arthur looked up from his own writing desk near the window, staring concernedly at the back of Merlin’s head.

“Nothing” she replied cautiously.

“That didn’t seem like nothing.” Arthur intoned, maneuvering from his corner and crossing to his wife, who had gone back to taking notes.

“Really, Arthur, I’m fine –“ Merlin inhaled sharply, then let out a long, slow breath.

“Is this. . . is it happening?” Arthur ventured, eyes wide, hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Possibly.” Merlin replied evenly. “I’m not going to worry about it yet.”

“Not. . . isn’t there. . . I mean. . . wouldn’t the time to worry be now?!” Arthur’s eyes looked ready to leap from his head, his arms gesturing wildly.

“No, they could be false contractions.”

“But they feel like, you know, the real thing?” Arthur, having recently learned what a contraction was, felt somehow more out of his depth than he had in his ignorance.

“Well, it’s hard to tell – _ah_.” Merlin, usually champion at hiding her pain, bit her lip to escape any more sound from emerging. This, whatever it was, was sharp and unyielding.

“Merlin, don’t you think it’s time to go down to see Giaus and Flidas?”

“You remembered her name.” Merlin deadpanned.

“Not now!” Arthur snapped.

“Don’t shout at me! It’s _my_ contracting uterus!” Merlin retorted, incensed.

“So they are contractions?”

“I don’t know, and I want to finish this first!”

“Can’t it wait?” Arthur pleaded frantically, completely confused.

“I don’t want to lose my place.” Merlin resolved soundly, picking up her dropped quill, dabbing some spilled ink, and continuing her notation.

Arthur stared in disbelief, but recognized a lost battle when he saw one. He simply positioned himself across the table, watching Merlin feign placidity.

All in all, it took an hour and twelve minutes for Merlin to crack, by which time, Arthur had to help maneuver her (stubbornly) to the bed in their chambers and call for guards to call for the midwife, who arrived with (perhaps literally) magical speed.

“Well, Merlin, it’s too late to move you.” She stated evenly, after a quick examination.

“Of course I can move.” Merlin resolved, before attempting to sit up and being forced back to the bed by the pain in her abdomen.

“No, you cannot.” Flidas decreed “I’ll have some of my best girls come up here, and we’ll make this space suitable. She turned to the king. “You’ll have to go.”

“Oh no, not again.” Arthur replied.

“You’ll complicate things. It’s never a good idea to have husbands in the room.”

“I am not sitting outside that door again.” Arthur replied icily, before realizing himself and softening. “Unless, Merlin, do you want me to go?”

Merlin peered at Arthur, her face reddened, and for a moment Arthur started to feel the (perhaps unjustified) sting of rejection, before Merlin shook her head. “No. Stay.”

Arthur, pleased to have won the little battle, crossed to hold Merlin’s hand, positioning himself at the side of the bed. Flidas went to have the proper tools sent up, and Arthur laid his head against Merlin’s, thankful for the moment of pseudo-privacy.

He felt the fear he had been attempting to hold back wash over him, and he almost couldn’t stop himself from saying -

“Promise me I won’t lose you. I. . . I couldn’t, I can’t lose you.”

Merlin smiled “You won’t. I will never, ever leave you.”

She said it so surely that Arthur almost let himself believe it.

* * *

Merlin gave up on masking the pain about two hours into labor proper, screaming obscenities at just about any person who dared move, speak, or stay still. Arthur maintained his decorum with uncharacteristic calm.

“AHHHHHHHH – fuck! This fucking hurts!” Merlin screamed, her magic throwing a large, pulsating ball through the far window and shattering it for emphasis.

“I know.” Arthur placated, pushing some stray hairs off her forehead.

Contraction tapering, she looked at Arthur “Of all the things, I’ve done for you, us, this is the one that fucking hurts the fucking most.”

“I guess we finally found your limit for calm rationality.” Arthur panned, then received a very hard, magical slap upside the head.

Another six hours later, the sun had set and the room was lit by orbs of Merlin and Flidas’s creation, candlelight less than ideal for clear examination.

Merlin was exhausted, and Arthur was definitely reaching _his_ limit of calm rationality.

“How much longer is it going to take?” He asked Flidas quietly, at the far end of the room.

“I can’t say for sure.” She replied. “I’ve seen women labor for more than a day.”

“I HEARD THAT AND AM NOT PLEASED” Merlin yelled, before another wave hit, causing her to emit a deep groan.

It was yet another two hours later that Arthur sensed the mood shift. He had spent enough time waiting in battle camps to know when the real fight was approaching. Merlin ceased screaming obscenities and instead starting groaning, pressing her eyes shut tightly, then opening them and blinking emptily.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked, squeezing Merlin’s hand, and feeling her squeeze back hard.

Flidas adjusted on her stool, and one of her trainees stood behind her, handing an instrument over.

“The baby’s coming.” Flidas replied.

“Well, yes, I figured, but more specifically?” Arthur retorted.

“I mean that the baby is coming NOW.” Flidas burst. “Merlin, when you feel the urge, I’m going to need you to push, okay.”

Merlin nodded slightly, her face red, hair now absolutely everywhere.

“Okay. . . now. One, two three.” Flidas counted slowly. “Okay, wait, now. Merlin, push now!”

Arthur wasn’t sure exactly what Flidas could see so clearly, but there was undoubted authority in her voice that was edging on frantic.

“Merlin, squeeze Arthur’s hand and PUSH NOW.” This was the most urgent Arthur had ever seen the normally collected druid. It was also the only time he could remember her acknowledging him by name.

Arthur grasped the urgency, and, squeezing Merlin’s hand with one of his own, brought his other to Merlin’s face.

“Merlin, Merlin, you need to push now, love.” He said, not sure what well of strength he was drawing from to not fly into a panic.

At that, Merlin finally seemed to come back to the room, and locked eyes with Arthur, she nodded, biting her bottom lip, drawing blood, and then screaming, nails digging into the place the met the skin of Arthur’s hand.

“Yes! Good Merlin, now wait. . . now, one more! PUSH!”

There was a moment of silence, and Arthur could tell that something was happening at the foot of the bed, but he wasn’t looking there. Merlin was straining, all of Arthur’s attention focused on her face, her scrunched eyes, her lips. In the silence, Arthur sent a prayer to whatever god there might be to please, please, please let her be okay.

Then he heard something.

He had heard babies cry before, of course, but he realized he had never really heard a newborn. He didn’t recognize it as a human sound at first, but it made him turn. Somehow, he was absolutely shocked that Flidas was there, holding a baby.

His baby. Their baby.

He watched as Flidas passed the squalling infant back to her attendant efficiently, seemingly all of her attention focused back on Merlin. It was then that Arthur took in that absolutely everything both women were wearing, holding, near, was covered in blood.

“Merlin.” Flidas stated with deadly calm kind of authority. “Merlin, you’re bleeding. Merlin!”

Merlin seemed to have given up, baby now emerged, and had laid back down in the moment that Arthur had looked away, her hand going limp in his. Her eyes were blinking sleepily.

“Merlin!” Flidas yelled.

Arthur felt a wave of ice water hit his stomach. He had felt such relief when he saw the infant, but a voice now reminded him that that wasn’t the biggest concern.

He brought both his hands to Merlin’s face, holding it closely to his.

“Merlin, you need to wake up now” There was no response. “Merlin I need you to wake up now. You promised.” Arthur realized there were wells of tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t tell you the last time he cried. “You _promised_.”

At his last intonation, Merlin seemed to blink awake some, eyes coming back into focus, seeming to grasp the urgency of the situation. Arthur leant back slightly.

“Merlin” Flidas stated “You’re bleeding, I need you to stop the bleeding right now. I’m not powerful enough to do it, not by myself, and I can’t tell all the places it’s coming from. I’m going to need you to do that.”

A moment of silence, in which Arthur breathed “Please, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded, she took a breath, and then her eyes glowed gold.

Well, that was an understatement.

The room glowed gold.

Arthur couldn’t see anything, really, but he was overcome with a momentary state of absolute calm. When that abated, and the bright glow receded, he looked imploringly at Flidas, who seemed just as shocked as he was by the sudden show of magic.

“She’s. . . fine.” Flidas stated, unbelieving, poking at Merlin “Completely healed.”

Arthur turned to stare at Merlin’s face, which appeared to be perfectly docile in sleep, with no trace of the agonies recently undergone.

The king looked back, unbelieving, at Flidas, then slightly passed her, to where the window, earlier broken, was also fixed. It seemed that Merlin had healed. . . everything. At least everything in the vicinity.

“I. . .” Arthur started before trailing off.

“Sir?” Came a small, questioning voice from the back of the room. The assistant.

“Yes?” Arthur answered mechanically, brain struggling to process Merlin, in all her wonderous peculiarities.

“Would you like to meet your son?”

* * *

The next days passed roughly for Arthur, but at the same time, wonderfully.

The kingdom and her citizens, never keen to pass up a reason for celebration, exploded at the announcement of a live born, healthy heir.

Arthur, and a hobbled but unbelievably stubborn Merlin, walked him out and stood on the high wall, holding him for the people to see the day after he was born. The day was declared a holiday, which blended straight into yuletide celebrations. Arthur, in a jovial mood, had the kitchen prepare fine foods that were handed out in the castle yard, and any and all citizens were welcomed for the days of festivity.

Inside the castle though, the mood was more contemplative. Merlin, though conscious and mostly upright, was still in a great bit of pain. She, unhappily, was confined to bed, where Arthur was found almost constantly hovering.

Normally, this behavior would have annoyed Merlin to high heaven, but, for one thing, she was actually comforted by Arthur’s worry, in a strange way. For the first time, it made her feel cared for, rather than coddled.

And, the far bigger reason, was Almund.

They had fought bitterly about the name, of course.

Merlin awoke a few hours after the ordeal of giving birth, starting awake with a sharp intake of breath.

“Wher-“ she was able to get out before Arthur was there, over her.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

“Where is he?” She looked up at him, tired eyes full of fear.

“So sure it’s a he, huh?” Arthur smiled. Merlin, groggy from sleep and pain, registered slowly that this meant that there child was alive and well.

“Yes, absolutely.” She groaned testily, before softening “And I would really like to meet my son.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day, then.”

Arthur crossed to where the infant was sat in a cot. At first, Flidas and her assistant had insisted on staying, but after Arthur showed himself at least passably competent in the first hour or so, they conceded, and left the small, royal family to their business.

Arthur picked up the tiny person, with their tiny hands and feet and eyes, right now all head peering out from a linen swaddling cloth. Feeling the weight in his hands, his son, their son, barely even seemed real.

He crossed the room slowly, locking eyes with Merlin, who was sat up attentively now, masking a wince that was playing at the corner of her eyes. She held her hands out like a command, and Arthur, with a kind of religious weight, deposited their son in her arms.

Arthur had never seen Merlin’s eyes fill with that particular emotion, though he felt very well versed in all Merlin states. She stared with complete focus, eyes wide, unblinking.

“Hello” she breathed. The tiny creature opened his eyes, then, crinkling them around the edges. They were, of course, bright, bright blue.

The king moved to put his hand on Merlin’s back, eager to touch her, prove to himself that she was alive and okay, after what seemed like so long of letting her lie undisturbed. In silence, the family stilled, for a moment, and the gravity of change washed over them.

“Almund” Merlin declared after a moment, breaking the silence. The infant seemed to look up at her curiously, if that was possible.

“What?” Arthur questioned.

“His name is Almund.” Merlin stated with a definite sense of finality.

“Why would we call him _that_?” Arthur’s mouth was hanging open, forehead pinched.

“Because I like it! It’s his name, we can’t very well change it now.” Merlin practically sang. She brought Almund up to rest his tiny head on her shoulder, cradling him.

“Where did it even come from?” Arthur asked, resigned, sensing that, given that Merlin had almost died in the proceedings, not to mention the efforts of the previous year, this was a fight long lost.

“It means defender of the temple, I think.” Merlin replied. In response to Arthur’s confused silence, she continued “It will remind him, all of us, what our legacy is.”

At that, Arthur stood, watching Merlin take to Almund fiercely, naturally, bringing him to her breast to feed (a wet nurse was, apparently, out of the question, per an earlier lost argument). He considered his wife, his Merlin, his stupid manservant, his miraculous magician, and his unfailing protector. He considered how many times his life could have gone so very differently, and how incredibly, stupidly lucky he was now, here.

“Almund.” He whispered, smiling.

Merlin, starting to wane, but happy, safe, felt, she could have sworn, something far off in the universe clicking, finally, into place, like the grueling but inevitable turn of a long wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL HERE IT IS FOLKS. 
> 
> comment if you would like a down the line update/bonus ficlets from inside this universe. I already didn't expect this to grow as much as it has, but I still have some gaps I could definitely fill!

**Author's Note:**

> Do I know where I'm going from here? Mostly! Do I know how I'll get there? Not yet!
> 
> (am i developing a habit of foisting my own problems onto flatly rendered characters from a television program that aired over a decade ago? absolutely!)


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